| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
|---|
But he doesn't stay. I'm lucky to have anyone coming around at all. I'm a definite loner type. I don't generally have much company and certainly not much company that I'd care to wake up next to. The Blond has been bringing a friend around. A jailbait twit of a cross-dresser. A skirt wearing punk who's just a bit on the dopey side. Giggling. Awkward. Flirtatious in ways that I really don't need a minor to be. The boy's not without his redeeming qualities, but he might start pushing it. He groped my ass the other day. I responded with a quick joke but deep inside I was seriously concerned. He has big brown eyes. Not bad. But fuck me if I'm gonna go there. How do you tell a kid "no" without mindfucking him, anyway? And for godsake, what if somebody sees me hanging out with a high school kid? There are people around here who'd as soon lynch me for shit like that. Back to the blond. He's hot. And legal (barely). Holy shit, though, the guy never stays the night anymore. He's only slept here a couple of times. He's always jumping up to go Somewhere Else. I'm beginning to suspect that the Somewhere Else involves Someone Else. Which is cool. We're just very occasional fuckbuddies. Nothing major. No big commitment. Still, I hate it when he leaves. The other day, he popped in without notice. Hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks. We fooled around for about an hour. As soon as I got him off, there he went, dashing out the door again. It's starting to bother me, being left like that. I keep my mouth shut. Last time I watched him leave, I felt some pretty scary emotions. Hey, isn't that how J. Dahmer started? He didn't want his boys to leave so he fucking killed them. Please believe me when I say that I don't want to kill anybody. I just want to herd this boy away from the door, bundle him up in my bed and leave him there until the following morning. I like to talk and cuddle and just generally hang out with someone after a sexual experience. I don't really like the sudden reaching for the clothes and bolting out the door routine. I'm lucky to be getting what I'm getting even though it's sporadic and somewhat bizarre (he told me he was submissive, but not how much). It's fun. It's funny. Still, I don't know how to feel when I'm left behind. When the door slams I start feeling sick inside. Sometimes I want to lock the door and never let him in again. That would be easier than being left. At least I'm in control of it. I can lock people out of my life. I don't really want to, though. I just don't like being left. I'm not some kind of psycho. I don't normally mind at all when people leave. I just wish the ones who were using me sexually would hang around overnight sometimes. At least hang out for some milk and Twinkies. Know what I mean? |
i have put myself in that situation unknowingly often. and i want to believe i am strong enough to just blow it off as ultra casual. but i can't really, i am too much of a romantic. and usually i am the last to find out just how casual it really is. as far as the jailbait, do you think there could be an alterior motive there? as silly as it sounds. i know that if i was have casual sex iwouldn't bring someone along that would be silly and flirtatious unless i thought they might be better suited at the game than i. but i would still feel awkward about it. so lock your doors. |
Anyway. Maybe I only entertain me. I've never been in this situation but I've been in something close to it. My biggest problem is making them leave. They won't. And it's not just after sex. I've even tried cutting the sex off and they still don't go away. They stay in my bed all day. Sometimes when I'm not in it. Sometimes even when I'm not home. I have the adopt-a-boy syndrome pretty badly. Sometimes I just wish it was jack-em-off and they're out the door. That'd be neat once in a great while. But nope. They stay. Seriously though, it sounds like this isn't just a fuckbuddy girl. Don't kid yerself. Fuck buddies are are just that. Fuck buddies. And the buddie part is questionable. Him leaving shouldn't matter unless you want something else from the relationship which from what I read, would be my guess. So why don't you just tell him that? Tell him you want him to stay. Tell him how it makes you feel when he bolts out the door. If he doesn't stay...then yer better off anyway. Besides, sharing your box of twinkies is a big deal. |
The jailbait's ulterior motive would seem to be purely sexual. The kid popped up here a while ago. Unannounced. Alone. All giggly and big-eyed and so cute it made me feel vaguely ill. He says he's coming back in a while. Sweet Jesus. I think the original deal was that The Blond was trying to fix me up with his buddy so we could all get into a threesome. Blondie either wanted to watch me get it on with Kid Jailbait or wanted me to watch him do the same. Or some permutation of that scene. I think that Jailbait is starting to get interested in me. I also think that I'm going to have a little problem with this one. He's calling me and shit. I came home to an answering machine full of silly-ass messages. Every day he starts looking a little bit cuter. I don't even do cross-dressers. It's just not my bag. But this kid, he's a cutie. He's also goofy as hell. I don't know. If he weren't so impossibly young, I'd think about it. I sure don't want to hurt the kid's feelings. That kinda bothers me. A lot of people might be harsh about this shit but I've been there. I know what it's like to be young and not understand why adults are (usually) nervous to fuck around with you. On the other hand, I was molested by an adult as a kid and know how bewildering that can be, too. I may have to sit both these punks down and talk to them. I'd really like to avoid that. I'm not good with the heavy shit. Sharing one's Twinkies is one hell of a big deal. I'm not the kind of person who hands out Twinkies to just anyone. |
|
Sorry about that little ramble. But boys used to follow me home from said fine ding establishment, so...Actually, I guess I have a problem on a similar scale. He's cutish. Not jail bait. Is following me about. Horrid. |
|
i think these boys are driving him batshit. it can be a weird kind of torment. pilate's definitely old enough to know better (but still paradoxically young-at-heart enough to have moments of not caring...& young enough to have a libido that can effectively shut down silly shit like common sense). jailbait. i know it well. unlike me, pilate actually almost has morals. he's got a very tender soul beneath the harsh exterior. he does, however, have sense enough to know that getting caught in the rack w/ a minor could land him underneath the jail. that's always a compelling point to meditate upon. if it weren't illegal, would you bang a high school kid? a lot of people would. a lot of people have, including yours truly. but it's probably ill-advised. too many issues involved. issues suck. nowdays, everybody's got issues. bring back the good old days, when people used to just fuck, instead of having issues. issues. the new & faddish equivalent of the pet rock, the hula-hoop or the chia pet. the boys are cute. hell, I'D do them. i think that the blond might be a game-player & the crossdresser is just ditzy. the crossdresser strikes me as the kind of boy who'd fucking well do anything for attention. emotionally starved. possible abuse case. could be a potential psychic vampire, but i think he's too dumb even for that gig. he's just a teen goofball in dimestore mascara. the type who probably alternately needs a big hug & a swift kick. it makes me nervous for pilate that the crossdresser is calling so much. the kid doesn't know him that well yet. a stalker in the making? i dunno. if it doesn't cool down in about a week, pilate may be changing his phone number. for now, we're just worried about the cartoons. |
|
cartoons & hallucinogens. two great tastes that go great together. this morning, pilate & i were watching a mix of old warner bros. cartoons, some max fleischer cartoons, & some wretched hanna-barbera crap. never underestimate the power of "the herculoids" when you're bombed out of your fucking gourd. my friend, pug, watches anime. i haven't fully gotten into that whole bit yet...although "sailor moon" has provided some laffs when loaded. i'll probably be bombed tonight, so of course, i'll be watching toons. i'll also probably watch "head" (the monkees movie). & other random crap. teletubbies. 3 stooges. art films. porn. dolemite. kung-fu flicks. anything. |
and in the background, the frightening, swingin' sounds of nancy sinatra. & dionne warwick. christ. |
that's the way my sunday mornings usually go. |
|
Also late on Sundays is Space ghost - those fuckers (Cartoon Network) moved it from Friday so I have to figure out how to program my VCR and I don't know if I even have the manual. The Tick will also be a live action series on Fox this fall. |
& then we went shopping. the teenage transvestite (see pilate's above posts) tagged along. long story. the kid actually seems OK. he's just fucked in the head. name me somebody who isn't. anyway, Kid Jailbait wasn't in drag this time. a pretty cute boy, really. all waif-like & funny. funny to take flea marketing, anyway. the boy comes from a huge family. his folks don't want him around anymore. not because he's bad, says he, but because there are too many mouths to feed. so he whips out a picture. all cookie-cutter, half-naked kids who look just like him, surrounded by filth & clutter & garbage. sweet lord. we ate breakfast. we purchased god-awful home decor. we have returned. veni, vidi, vici. |
|
pilate seems to be handling the kiddo OK so far. we like the boy (he's kind of growing on us). but 15 is probably too young. truth is, we don't even know what the damn age of consent here is. it's usually 16 for girls, but for boys, who knows? presumably 16, also, but still...people act kind of weird about such things when it's a same-sex affair. tons of pregnant 16-year-olds walking around out here, but let a man get in the sack w/ a 16-year-old boy, & people will call out the lynch mob. i've gotta hop offline. my husband needs to call a fruit farm. i'll be back. |
about 15 miles from here, i was out riding around w/ a friend & some of the local yokels didn't recognize the vehicle. so a bunch of rednecks set up a roadblock & stopped us at gunpoint, ordering us away from their homes. they were fucking terrified & suspicious of us, because they didn't know us by name. that might sound like serious country action, but it wasn't far outside the city limits. about the jailbait thing...it's got me thinking. nobody gave a sweet goddamn about me when i was a kid & middle-aged & elderly men were brutally trying to fuck me. nobody cared at all. but now, everybody's bleeding out the ass w/ concern for the wee little kiddies. i got attacked sexually as a kid. a LOT. on the other hand, i also came on to people & initiated quite a few sexual acts myself, & felt that i knew what i was doing. anyway, i don't know what i think about the whole age limit thing. fat lot of good any so-called "protection" from the state ever did me. when i was 13 & some hideous old man was alternately raping me & beating my face against a glass window, where were all the concerned "family-friendly" motherfuckers then? when i was growing up, most of my friends had been raped at least once by somebody in their family. at age 12, a friend of mine dropped out of school to marry an older man. at 13, a few more went. by 15, a lot of them had kids & more of them got married. everybody thought it was cute. they married older men, who invariably beat the shit out of them. but they were WOMEN now, not silly, useless creatures like the other little girls. that was a big deal. getting pregnant made you a WOMAN (the way adults hyped this whole thing to young girls still fills me w/ serious revulsion). anyway, it's just the norm when a younger girl marries an older man. he's just getting a little young stuff. but turn the tables & let a 30-year-old man bang a 16-year-old boy, & it's all over. anyway, pilate's a nice guy. he's making sure that Kid Jailbait is getting enough to eat, that sort of thing. no funny stuff. just some concern. the same kind of concern that i--or any other ethical person--would show to a fellow human being. |
At least your boys aren't following you to Sorabji...yet. |
|
i've gotten to see the weird underbelly of this area. stick to the nice suburbs, & you'll just just see a thousand bitchy soccer moms...no bubbas. get out of the 'burbs, out of the more populated areas--& you might end up seeing folks who'll scare the piss out of you. there are a lot of factories here that hire entire families that crawl down from the hills. it's weird. you'll have serious yokels mixing it up w/ frat boys in designer clothes...it's really damn strange. my husband works in a place where they have to tell the guys to not wipe snot on the walls & to stop throwing their used toilet paper on the floor. but only a few miles away from that scene are art galleries & coffeehouses, where tight-assed young wanna-be goth trust fund kids slurp espresso & have never been confronted by a real redneck in their lives. no, the kiddies haven't followed me to sorabji yet. but several other people have. when pug gets back online, you'll probably be hearing more from him. he's a big spooky man w/ a big, spooky hairdo. he moved here from new hampshire. he thinks way the hell too much. he's one of the few people who can endure prolonged doses of my company. pilate can't post right now (he's finally here, but his hands are full) but he says he'll post later on. he's wanting me to emphasize that (1) he's not from here (2) he's not a babyfucker (3) he's no longer a member of the bavarian illuminati. |
|
i'm a sensative girl, i used to pray to god (when i thought he actually cared) that he would let all of the hurt and pain in the world be put onto me, so that no one else would have to feel it. Jailbait boy makes me feel the same way. i don't know him, but i know people that i would describe just like you described him. blah blah blah he's a kid. a kid. a kid who wants love, who wants someone to take care of him, someone to treat him right. it's a shame that he feels that he has to get it through sex. i wish i could provide all the love needed for everyone that needs it. my heart hurts. i'm incapable of hating people. the reason i can't hate people is because i know that they all feel pain. my advice: don't give sex when love and attention are needed. two very different things. my step-father confused the two when i was six and seven. at the time i had never felt so loved in my life but afterwards... can't hate the bastard even now because something hurt him enough to want to do it. i guess god did what i wanted and put someone else's pain onto me. |
Anyway. As long as I get the IRS< I'm happy. |
|
I played the INWO/Subgenius game a few times. "he's no longer a member of the bavarian illuminati." Man, you are ALWAYS a member of the BAvarian Illuminati, there's no getting out. |
|
|
|
i've got a head full of sleeping pills...feeling woozy. pilate will probably pop up here in the middle of the night. he's got the key. so does pug. they drop in whenever the mood suits them. i don't even have to be awake. they just come watch TV or sleep on the couch or talk to the rat when they're lonely. belljar...i hear what you're saying. don't worry. pilate's actually taking pretty good care of the kid. he bought him some shoes & has been making sure he's eating OK. & he's got a warm place to sleep if he needs it (& even pilate's floor beats a church doorway, where the kid's apparently been crashing). we're weird fuckers, but we're kind-hearted. pilate's just being upfront in expressing his concerns here. it's not like he's saying any of this crap to brendan (the kid), around whom he's remarkably stable. i'm about to fall over at the keyboard. bedtime for bonzo. my computer nearly crashed yesterday. i wigged out. it bothered me that i freaked out about it so much...i mean, yeah, a good part of my work involves being online. but i also felt some sort of social disconnection. i probably need more friends whose names don't end in ".com"...i'm on this beast waaaay too much. it's also a communal machine...pug & pilate & ren use it, too. anyway, if i suddenly disappear, it's because i either got disconnected or died...what's the diff? i just fell asleep at the keyboard. time for me to fly. 23 skiddoo. |
time for me to fly. |
Just rolled in from an extended drive. One of the kids wanted to go for a ride. The one who's old enough to fuck. The one who always leaves. What the hell. I've been in one of those moods as of late. The kind of mood in which I'd rather be dragged through the mud than be lonely. We had a good time, though. Talked about sex but did nothing about it. We were talking and riding and eating weird food at a truck stop where some hugeass trucker who looked like Mr. Clean appeared to be flirting with us. Or at least giving us the eye like he wanted something. Maybe Mr. Clean just realized that I'm part of the Illuminati and was looking for favors. |
We kissed a lot at one point. That was so cool. I know, kissing is just foreplay and all that. Kid stuff. But there are moments when it can be almost hotter than actually getting it on with someone. If it's done right. And it was done quite right. I'm not in love or anything. Just feeling lucky that I had a good time and that he chose to stay. I'm easily amused. I'm also slightly hung over but that's another story. |
i bought a cat to sleep with, but the damn thing bites my nose while i'm sleeping. i wish i had someone to kiss. fuck. |
Sleeping alone is such a drag. I agree, sleeping with somebody doesn't even have to be a sex thing. Just a human warmth kinda thing. I haven't had anyone to kiss in so long it's been ridiculous. This is a godsend. Again, it's not a heavy romantic thing. It's just a basic reassurance that I'm still human. I was beginning to doubt it. |
|
|
i used to sleep w/ some of my former bandmates when we were traveling, just to have someone to sleep next to. it was platonic. hubby knew about it. didn't care. i tried to snuggle w/ a friend recently when we had to share the same bed in a hotel room. she didn't seem to want any part of it. what a pity. in my first year of college, i used to snuggle w/ my roommate. we snuggled all year long. people thought we were sick & weird. oh, well. their problem. |
I'm going to go watch monks with funny hats chant for world peace tonight. Wish me luck? |
|
i had an apartment once that had a huge closet with a closing door. sort of like a small extra room. i brought my bed in there and thats where i slept. no matter how long you were in there your eyes never adjusted to the dark because absolutely no light got in there for your eyes to pick up on. sort of a sensory depravation thing. i loved it. total black. |
|
one of the hot spots was a walk-in closet. the sound of people talking & stomping could be heard nearly 24 hours a day. the stomping was nearly unbearable at times. open the door & nobody would be in there, of course. it used to scare the hell out of people. it was really difficult to find anyone to stay overnight w/ me after a while. my husband, when we first met, was skeptical when i told him about the haunted house i lived in. within hours, he was a skeptic no more. i don't know why the ghosts--or whatever--liked the closet so much. but they did. i've had a bit of apprehension about walk-in closets ever since. i doubt you could get me to sit in one in the dark. the ghosts also liked shattering my plates against the wall. but that's another story. |
|
when i would leave the place, i'd turn out the lights. when i got outside, all the lights would come back on, all at once. the whole damn place would light up. there were weird, elongated shapes that popped up & wiggled under the bedsheets, pushing up the blankets & crawling up toward me (that's what really flipped my husband out). plates suddenly smashed against the wall. downstairs, the telephone would dial its own number over & over; you could see the keys depressing w/o being touched (this phenomenon follwed the resident when she moved to a new place). weird alarms sounded for no apparent reason, unbearably loud. & that damn closet...endless stomping. it always sounded like massive amounts of people were in the closet. a psychic came over & said that a very pissed-off teenage ghost was my problem. a dead 14-year-old. several people came over & talked to him on a ouija board. more earthly problems w/ the place included a serial rapist in the neighborhood & the discovery of a severed human arm in a nearby dumpster. & a stalker who wrote my name on my front door in blood. i dunno. i'm just glad that i moved. |
the shit with the bedsheets would've gotten to me too. how long did you live there? where was this? |
my friend & i have both had problems since moving from that place. she's got a lot more psychic weirdness than i do, though. she's got some sort of weird creature that manifests in her office & a really pissed-off spirit in her attic. me, i've mostly got audio phenomenon here. my husband's voice can be plainly heard when he's not here & he hears my voice when i'm gone. but that's nothing compared to what i went through at the other place. other weirdness here: (1) a strong floral scent suddenly overtook the house & then a dark-haired woman showed up in the back bedroom for about a minute. (2) i had the strong sensation of something or someone watching me in the middle of the night. i got the creeps & decided to go to bed. as i was walking toward the bedroom, a very clear, deep, bass voice suddenly said, "GOODNIGHT". i said "goodnight" back & asked it kindly to please not frighten me again. i haven't heard it since. it would make sense if my present apartment is haunted. i live right next to a huge graveyard. as my husband often observes, what's to say that the bodies actually stop at the stone fence surrounding it? my place may very well be built on an older part of the cemetery. still, by comparison, it's much, much calmer than the other apartment. |
i'm jealous. |
but far too many people have seen the stuff besides me, especially at that one apartment (let's just call it Hell House), for it to be a total delusion. pilate can vouch for the creepiness of Hell House. he's been there a few times (he & i knew each other a long time ago, lost touch, & then ended up getting back together). another really bizarre thing about Hell House was a really tall, rust-colored figure w/ a glowing hand. a LOT of people saw him near me. the only things he ever said (he only spoke a few times) were "burn" & "hurt". although he creeped me out, i felt sorry for him. the voice sounded really warped & weird. hair-raising stuff. he was seen by a whole group of young girls one day. they freaked out & said a figure was flying over my head. they described my other-worldly roommate. he had started following me out of the house. for a couple of weeks, tons of people were suddenly freaking out & telling me they saw a figure either near me or hovering over my head. nothing like that happens to me here. however, my friend frequently sees black, shadowy figures who suddenly pop up along the highway as she's driving. i've spent the night a few times in her present house & i really can't sleep well there. which is an understatement. i love her to death, but her house gives me the willies. |
my breakfast caught on fire this morning. (I've been putting corn tortillas in the toaster and they get stuck.) I've been getting invited to movie screenings through my job. today I could go see "what lies beneath," but I know I won't have time. because here I am, nearly 9 a.m., fucking around on the computer at home. |
I think I've already told you guys how for a while I thought that "where the heart is" was the david duchovny/minnie driver flick about the cardiac patient. last night a friend took me out for ethiopian food. we split a $7.99 vegetarian combination platter and couldn't even finish it. who needs the new economy when there are ethiopian restaurants? |
Only two strange things have happened in this house. The first happened right after we moved in -- I was playing in the basement with my cousin B. and all of a sudden she stopped what she was doing and looked toward a corner of the basement that's near this big gaping cubby-hole type thing. She said, "did you see that?" and then described a creature that was covered in eyes who said "this is the wrong house" and then disappeared. I believe she really saw something, only because she's too dumb and completely lacking in imagination to make up something like that. Then recently, I woke up and heard strange scratching noises coming from my closet, and when I got up to investigate, i couldn't see anything that could be causing them. They started up again after I closed the door. How boring. Tell us more, Crimson and Jay! |
i have always wondered about ethiopian food though. isn't everyone fucking starving over there? i didn't realize they had culture, i thought they just ate whatever they could get their hands on. i know that sounds bad and i don't really think that but i must admit the first time i heard of an ethiopian restaurant i was like "what the fuck?" once when i was about twelve i woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream. i was at the age where i didn't think i should be a wuss and go sleep with my parents but the dream had me spooked. so i got up and walked towards their room. i was standing outside their door trying to decide whether or not to go. the back door to our house is off the living room where i was standing and it was a really stormy night and suddenly the fucking thing just blew open, but without a sound. i stood there staring at it. like at all the moments in the middle of the night when i could've been standing there the door had to blow open then. so i walked over to it really slow the whole time feeling like someone in a horror movie who's about to get axed and the whole audience is yelling "run, dumbass, get the fuck out of there" but i reached out and pulled it shut. we always kept that door locked to. |
Bathrooms. That's my favorite place to sleep. People think I'm nuts if I sleep in their bathroom, though. Whatever. |
but what i really wanted to tell was about my "spirit" experience that i had a few weeks ago. i was doing some volunteer work at an upward bound program at the indian nations university (which at one time had been a boarding school for first nation's people... you know children torn away from their homes and not allowed to practice their cultural beliefs). it was the last night of the program and one of the children came into the room looking very spooked and said that he had seen a spirit. none of the adults in the room laughed at him or patronized him. it was amazing. i know that within my white middle class midwestern culture all adults would have laughed their asses off and not believed that i had encountered something. their treatment of this young man was with the utmost respect. so it wasn't as interesting as things in the sheets, but a lesson in culture that i thoroughly enjoyed. |
|
like looking at a picture of a cat and seeing a skunk? |
|
as for the supernatural stuff, there are people who won't go in the spare bedroom here. one houseguest finally freaked out last year & called somebody to exorcise it. almost all of the psychic phenomena here has been confined to the hallway & spare bedroom. i have a number of books here...magickal grimoires for conjuring up spirits. several people have suggested that because i have this stuff lying around, weird spirits may start popping up. then again, people also told me when i was a kid that if i ever owned a copy of "the 6th & 7th books of moses", demons would come sew numbers into my skin. i've owned a copy for years & i haven't awakened w/ any numbers embroidered on me. the "6th & 7th books of moses" are also known as "the weimar bible" & when i grew up, owning a copy was almost as bad as selling your soul to satan. but i've had a copy on my bookshelf now for a long time & nothing bad has happened. |
|
i think the scooby-doo gang is also part of the bavarian illuminati. if only i could be as cool as velma.... |
|
that used to freak me out as a kid, the stories about demons sewing numbers (usually 3, 6, 13, or 666) into your skin. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Please. |
|
before i started on my medication (which i have just recently gotten off of)i had these dreams weekly since early teen years. i haven't had one in a few months. |
|
Yeah, I like to sit in my bathroom when I'm sad, too. People think that's really wierd. they must think I puke a lot or something. At any rate, the house I'm in now doesn't have a good "sad" bathroom, because all the components of the bathroom are scattered over the house. The toilet's in one room, the shower in another, the ig sink/mirror in another...so where, exactly, should I go to be sad? |
|
has anyone ever actually wiped there ass with a leaf while shitting in the woods? |
|
he reports that it was a most sobering & unpleasant experience. |
|
with a stone, too. Isolde, you caused me great pain with an involuntary testicular spasm. That was very not nice. You're icky. |
|
need i say it was a little messy. |
|
|
No, the toilet paper holder is next to the toilet. I'm rather honored you had a drean about my house, though--explain. |
I organized a a privy-building project once. A little wooden box in the woods in what was once a sheep fold, up the hill from the trail and a nearby campsite. Everyone complained that it was too far away, but if we'd made it any closer, they would have complained that there was no privacy. It's nice, it's one of those open ones, rather than a fully enclosed outhouse. It smells lots better, and it's great sitting up there with the woods all around. TP is fine by me, and I don't mind leaves and stones, but I'm not sure I'm down with the colonial practice of using corncobs. And the Sears catalog is right out. |
|
I'm not feeling quite so much angst, for the moment. I was awakened a while ago by an Earth shattering handjob. Nice, very nice. I do love a young man who knows what to do with his hands. Waking up with someone lovingly massaging your hard-on isn't exactly the worst way to greet the morning. Better than Folger's in your fucking cup. The transvestite's still coming around, but he hasn't been in drag the past few times I've seen him. The blond is still coming around too, in more ways than one, and it was his hand that so tenderly woke me up this morning. He sneaked into my room, reached under the covers and grabbed the first thing that popped up. The Sears catalog is right out for me, too. Ditto corncobs. |
a lot of my dreams mean something, i'm not sure if this meant something. once i dreamt that there was a big dinner being held at my house, and my godparents came. we were all sitting around the table when my godfather looked at me, he smiled then turned white and slumped over in pain. the next day my mother was called, my godfather's colon had burst in the night and he was in the hospital. he died shortly after. i saw it happen. i dreamt of a classmate of mine. she was getting married, her wedding dress was a little too big though. next day she showed us her engagement ring, she'd been proposed to the night before. the ring needed to be sized it was too big. |
I've always been a big fan of thimbleberry leaves for ass-wiping, actually--large, soft, and fuzzy. All one really needs in life. The Sears catalogue is kinda slick, don't you think? But pages from Catcher in the Rye--excellent idea. I felt really bad for my cat this morning. He had somehow swallowed some of my hair, which is really long, and I had to pull it out of his butt. |
i had a dream once that eric clapton died. i was really bummed about all the great music he had left in him and how now all that was gone. the next day i heard that his son had died. corncobs? |
Smack me! |
|
Is that wierd? |
|
i know i'm obsessed. |
case in question: got out of class the other day and had to pee really bad so ran to the womans room. pull down the pants, sit down, all ready, when the feminist cunt from class comes in (i could see her little blonde bob-head through the cracks in the stall). my bladder freezes. i had to sit there for 4 minutes listening to that bitch pee before i could do it myself. ugh, maybe im odd. |
thats the one thing i look forward to about getting old, taking those long ass pisses with style. |
|
Rewind a few hours. Crimson picks up the phone and there's some kid crying like hell. He finally asks for me, knowing damn well that I'm there. Sure as shit, it's our old pal, Brendan (the transvestite). Some workers found him. He'd been goofing around on their loading dock and slipped and fell. Sprained the piss out of his ankle. Didn't know who to call. So of course, he called me. And of course, being a fucking idiot, I paid his doctor bill and got the silly little shit all bandaged up. He was terrified to go to the doc because his folks might find out. He's not supposed to go home or cost them money or anything like that. But I passed him off as my nephew. He also claimed some other people he knows as his folks and nobody asked any weird questions. So far. And they probably won't, since I paid the whole thing off in cash, in another town. So now Sprain-Boy is munching his meds and feeling all woozy, while generally being spoiled rotten (if I ever bust myself up, please let Crimson take care of me). The ankle looks vicious. Very nasty. He'll be on crutches for a while. Strays. Don't you love 'em? |
I hate public bathrooms. |
kid's still here. we didn't even bother moving him. he's in plenty of pain. i can relate to it, since i also sprained my ankle a few years ago & am STILL having problems w/ it (it never did heal quite right). when the injury was fresh, it hurt like a sonofabitch & people kept glibly telling me, "hey, it's just a sprain". after a while, i wanted to just punch their goddamn teeth out. yeah, it's just a sprain. & it hurts like you cannot fucking believe. i walked w/ a cane for quite a while afterward. i hate public bathrooms, too. i mean, i reaaally hate them. i especially hate going in after old women (you know, the wrinkled ex-debutante types who are too well-bred & genteel to sit down on the toilet seat--the ones who were raised to never sit on a public toilet seat, but to perch over the commode, instead)...they spray piss all over the seat. isn't that dainty? i also hate when people bring in their goddamn boys into the ladies' room to piss. i mean, boys who are far, far too old to have their mama taking them to the bathroom. they end up pissing all over the toilet seat--& more often than not, the floor. jesus. how gross. i must have the "shy bladder" thing, too, because i won't go in a public john if it's crowded. forget about it. |
anyway, on an unrelated note, i overheard some people talking shit behind pilate's back a while ago, just because he helped this kid out (see above). yeah. you help out some goody-two-shoes sunday school kid from a nice home & you're a hero. you help out a homeless gay kid who CAN'T go home & all of a sudden, you're satan. anyway, i don't know what these folks expected. maybe they expected us to just sit there & watch this boy lie there in agony, nursing what was (for all we knew) broken bones. i guess they might be the type to see another human being suffering & not do anything. of course, the people bitching about this are quite religious. they'll go sit on their antiseptic church pew this sunday & get all self-congratulatory about it. but if they saw someone suffering, well, to hell w/ that...they just couldn't be bothered. i shouldn't have been trying to repair patent leather w/ automotive epoxy, anyway. what WAS i thinking? |
"-------, 28, was arrested Monday...on charges of sodomy. According to a report, a warrant was obtained for -------'s arrest following an investigation about reports he had sodomized a dog behind a local motel around 2 A.M....a resident of the motel...saw him sodomizing the dog and contacted police. He was arrested Monday, taken to the Police Department, and released on bond." no matter how weird my life can get sometimes, at least i'm not sneaking around behind motels & getting down w/ canines. |
and at the bottom of the page is a small Biblical sermon that ends, "...when God says don't touch it, He means don't touch it". |
|
|
|
it's not the first case of dog-humping i've heard of around these parts. i was in this band...one of the members had a huge dog. the dog's owner awakened to find some stoned guy trying to suck the dog's dick. later, they caught the guy trying to bugger the dog. they had to run the dude off at gunpoint, before he tried any other moves on the poor beast. i had a friend who worked in a pet shop for years. the cops returned several animals to her store after their owners had been busted for sexually molesting them. $600+ pedigree cats, used for fucktoys. bizarre. |
i think getting busted for fucking a dog up the ass would be worse though. thats just sick. |
i used to have a picture of a dead guy. he died while trying to fuck himself up the ass w/ a monstrously huge dildo. when i was a kid, there was a neighborhood boy who used to jerk off dogs. several other boys i knew used to stick Q-tips into female cats & fuck them when they were in heat. i also remember being about 12 & reading in a hardcore porn mag about the joys of fucking seagulls. they usually died afterward. on a darker note, a guy here got arrested for raping his pre-school niece w/ a soldering iron (i think). something awful like that. something hard, intrusive, & made of metal. another guy here in the state tried to buy a little girl over the internet to use as his sex slave. when he came to the airport to collect the girl, he was carrying gifts for her--a teddy bear & a box of condoms. he was arrested on the spot. he'll be in jail for about a thousand years. another guy, also here in the state, got his jollies by taking pictures of neighborhood boys & cutting the heads out of the photos, pasting them onto the bodies of nude models in gay porn mags. each pic was considered a felony & he had hundreds of them. another guy was a youth worker who had a secret camera installed & had tons of footage of local boys getting undressed. he, too, will probably be in jail until the end of time. when i was in high school, one of my classmates didn't make it to the graduation ceremony...he was in jail, instead, having been caught diddling a three-year-old. it's a weird world. to say the least. |
Nasty. Weird isn't the word for it. However, if I ever got the opportunity to dress up like Storm from the X-men and play boppity-bop, you all know I'd do it. |
just sad. |
People who diddle animals confuse me. |
|
|
but apparently, he's smarter than the guy who raped his pre-school niece (who was, by the way, mentally handicapped). they found crude, bizarre, hand-drawn pix of the girl, putting her in sexual poses & rape scenarios. i think she was about 4 or so. major inbred hillbilly action. spooky stuff. |
OK, I'm teasing. My date and I are probably the most un-hillbilly people I can think of. The Anti-Hillbillies. Kind of like the Anti-Christ, but sillier. Somebody's just walked in with food. Must investigate. I'll be back later, doubtless reeking of someone else's cologne. |
Anyway, I wonder if my little affair is going to turn into some kind of attempt at a relationship. I kinda hope so, but it's still pretty early for that sort of thing. My last lover moved in rather spontaneously after a whirlwind courtship (to put it mildly) and we worked out great as a couple. We were perfect together. He's dead now. I've only had one other long-term lover before that. That was my first real lover, a big muscular man (an anomaly, since I generally tend go for smaller and younger waif-like guys). An interracial relationship, which was odd, if only for watching other people's reaction to it. He moved out of state due to his work and he never came back. I didn't move with him because of my own job. The relationship just kind of rode off into the sunset. Crutch-Boy is still making the same assertion he's been making since I met him. His intention is to drop out of school at the ripe old age of fifteen. Funny thing, his folks have to sign the papers. They won't feed him, won't buy him clothes, won't help him at all. But amazingly they WILL sign the papers so he can drop out of school and fuck up his life. I think they should be shot. The boy's very bright but not in an academic sense. School has been a massive disaster for him. He'd rather die than go back. Ultimately, if he drops out, there's not a whole hell of a lot I can personally do about it except talk him into getting a G.E.D. as soon as possible. He's damn serious about not going back. Anyway, I've got a blond in my bed. Life could be worse. |