Well I am trouble-galore and tastelessness and perversion. I hope that I don't get kicked out of here also. Thank you all for listening & supporting me.
Do bad boys become bad dads? I've been told I've been a bad boy and I've been told that I'll be more than likely having daughters as Heaven's revenge for all the flirting and perversions I bring women into for all these years.
I always love watching this scene:
And in all honesty I hope to be this kind of dad one day; the boy trembles no matter how hot my daughter is at the mere thought of meeting Mr. G.
Of course, the tricky part about having daughters is having them turning out HOT! And in the past I've written (and been called with affection) 'Daddy'.
Now in all honesty I want to be a dad one day. And I'd like to be a good dad too; someone worth the title of 'Daddy' as a show of respect and appreciation, not just one of lust and amusement. On the other hand, someone calls me 'Daddy' simply because she loves me so I have to like that as I love her very much.
I'm sure Hulk Hogan loves his daughter no matter how silly she may act; on the plus side she is trying to make the world a better place with her singing talents and not being naughty as those boys thought she'd be for cash. I may not like Brooke but I applaud her decisions, and that set of lessons comes from Daddy.
Protective, warm and delightful - that's what Daddy should be for his little angel. And that's what I'd like to be for my daughters. I doubt I'd ever anything less and I think that I'd want them to know I am their rock, their stability, and their support. Even Jenna Jameson has a daddy who loves her even as she gives her goodies away with all her inhibitions on video, DVD and in dancing tours all across the country, along with the deepest secrets of her wild and shaded past in her best-selling autobiography, "How To Make Love Like A Porn Star".
I'm sure hoping that I'll have beautiful children, and I'll be able to care for and love them all the ways they needed to be loved without fear or hesitation. Using my heart, not my cock.
That's for her date ... her crush ... or the guy who thinks she's cute.
Now some of you may wonder what I am writing about in particular. I am writing because I am unsure why is it that people, moreso musicians, need to redo and add-on additional musics and noise into the backgrounds or overlay the scritcha-scritch sounds atop the wonderful and joyous music.
Madonna's "What It Feels Like For A Girl" is a good example. If you read the lyrics it makes the lives girls lead a dysfunction and contradiction, and yet, it praises them for their bravery versus the men who can't imagine being girls. The softness of the lullaby and gentle overtones express a certain level of feminiity without it being sarcastic or argumentative, making Madonna contradict herself.
(And for the record: I Love Madonna the singer, not Madonna the actress.)
With the feminism of today, women can handle almost any job a man can handle but for some reason, men can't handle the things women do. I'd love seeing a God-made man giving birth (and don't reason me into that 'person' ... the changeling who kept her ovaries but added a gender extension. THAT'S not a man!!), or accept life on the lower end of the scale.
Depending on the job, some women have complained that they make close to 20% (or more) LESS than their male counterparts. I've seen female tow-truck drivers, police officers, CEO's, CFO's, managers, and many other jobs where they deserve all they earn, period.
I am thus, writing this tribute to Madonna, with love, not admonishment. I am writing this telling you all the song was (and IS) amazing in it's original form.
I made some post for the site Literotica, where I post my stories & comments, and I am looking deeper into myself from time to time with the pleasure life should bring me, but doesn't. Well, nothing here brings me pleasure.
Both have some very cool images added into them and I am thrilled to have experienced my pleasure finally.
In some ways I am still thinking about my experience of lust & joy, and in other ways I am wishing my life could be what I really want, but wondering what makes me spin about like a kite in a storm.
Have you ever found someone willing to wrestle with you? Not just someone of the same gender, but someone of the opposite gender. Mainly, your lover. The woman who wants to overpower you with her own inner and personal strength, and desire to express it.
She aches to flex her muscles, is dying to slap you, punch you, choke you, SCREAM at you at the top of her lungs, and most of all ... to enjoy it and not be ashamed or afraid of hurting you.
"Either you're talking about us, or I'm kicking your ass."
Burn Notice - Fiona (Gabrielle Anwar)
He hands reach for you. She grasp you, clinging, not worried about her magnificent breast being a hinderance or a problem in any way to her feminine physique, or of being afraid of you in any way hurting her. She slaps you, a gleeful look in her eyes, glimmering madly, eyebrows arched, and a smile holding her cheeks high under her eyes, her body braced for lunging at you over the soft mattress.
She grabs your wrist, turning your arms backward, flopping hard against your body, her perfectly curved body crushing against you, pressing the smooth pubic mound over your stomach as she tries to straddle you, holding you in place, keeping her weight on you to press you down on the mattress, and you flex your biceps to push her off you.
Laughter fills the room, and she's grinding crushing you holding you in place, giggling and wiggling like mad aroused and arousing you. You're both drunk with the pleasure of meeting, of touching, of making your dreams a reality, and that makes you both all the more happier. Nothing could help keep you from giggling like wild feral creatures, enjoying your nudity and the pleasure of one anothers' touch, grasp or holds.
A flip moves you atop her, and then her elbow strikes your shoulder, pushing you back, tossing you onto the mattress on your back. No nails but her fingers are extended and your biceps burn with the muscle flexing and the use of inner power and strength as you try to keep her from overpowering you.
Even when you flop over her, pressinng your limp cock and naked body atop hers', she still giggling and straining, trying to bite or nip you, kissing and kicking, using her toes for leverage, and the thought of tickling her enters your mind. Then SHE tries tickling you, but you've pinned her to the bed again, giggling with her, laughing and loving her wrestling with you on your rented bed, wanting so much more than time will allow for your weekend.
A concession: you're both exhausted, but you're holding her, and she's breathing fast.
A kiss lands on your lips, her neck craning out, her eyes shutting gently, lashes against her face as she exhales, then inhales your tongue, keeping you deep in her mouth, passion rushing between you both and your bodies electric with lust & love.
I was watching "Burn Notice" on USA's network, and the main characters, Michael (Jeffery Donovan) and Fiona (Gabrielle Anwar) are former lovers and friends, who, reunited, make the best of their momentary relationship.
At one point she wants to know what's happening next as she assist him in his missions around Miami, and begins hitting, punching and gives a few judo tosses and they eventually wind up in bed, backs to one another, maybe afraid of what they've done or how they feel.
This is a selection of posted quotes and sayings regarding luck and hope and hard work, and I hope they touch and assist someone who loves me and whom I love.
She's a wonderful woman & friend; I hope she reads this before she goes to her testing for her license.
She's gonna be a great pilot.
Adios gang,
Julian
*******
Luck does not favor hesitation. (Roman words of wisdom)
It is better to be born lucky than rich. (unknown)
All of us have bad luck and good luck. The man who persists through the bad luck -- who keeps right on going -- is the man who is there when the good luck comes -- and is ready to receive it. (Robert Collier)
Men of action are favored by the Goddess of luck. (George S. Clason)
Better an ounce of luck than a pound of gold. (Yiddish proverb)
I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have. (John Heywood)
Luck is the residue of design. (John Milton)
If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities. (M. Angelou)
Luck is a dividend of sweat. The more you sweat, the luckier you get. (Ray A. Kroc)
Good luck is a lazy man's estimate of a worker's success.
The only sure thing about luck is that it will change. (Wilson Mizner)
Each misfortune you encounter will carry in it the seed of tomorrow's good luck. (Mandino)
Good luck is often with the man who doesn't include it in his plans. (Unknown)
Luck is when opportunity knocks and you answer. (Unknown)
It's hard to detect good luck - it looks so much like something you've earned. (Frank Clark)
Luck never gives; it only lends. (Swedish proverb)
I am a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it. (T. Jefferson)
May good luck be your friend in whatever you do and may trouble be always a stranger to you. (Irish blessing)
For each petal on the shamrock this brings a wish your way. Good health, good luck, and happiness for today and every day. (Irish blessing)
Being deeply learned and skilled, being well trained and using well spoken words; This is good luck. (Buddha quote)
May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light. May good luck pursue you each morning and night. (Irish blessing)
Good luck happens when preparedness meets opportunity.
Good luck comes in slender currents, misfortune in a rolling tides. (Irish saying)
The amount of good luck coming your way depends on your willingness to act. (B. Sher)
For a long time now I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can. (Ernest Hemingway)
Diligence is the mother of good luck. (Benjamin Franklin)
The luck of having talent is not enough; one must also have a talent for luck. (H. Berlioz )
They say you have to be good to be lucky, but I think you have to be lucky to be good. (Rico Carty)
Depend on the rabbit's foot if you will, but remember it didn't work for the rabbit. (R. Shay)
Everything in life is luck. (Donald Trump)
Go and wake up your luck. (Persian saying)
Luck is what you have left over after you give 100 percent. (L. Coleman)
Those who have succeeded at anything and don't mention luck are kidding themselves. (Larry King)
Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect. (Ralph Emerson)
I don't know anything about luck. I've never banked on it, and I'm afraid of people who do. Luck to me is something else; hard work and realizing what is opportunity and what isn't. (Lucille Ball)
Men have made an idol of luck as an excuse for their own thoughtlessness. (Democritus)
Winners believe that they create their own luck by their actions; losers believe in good and bad luck. (Unknown)
We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like? (Jean Costeau)
Success is just a matter of luck, all you need to do is ask a failure. History may be written by academics but it's rarely created by them. (Unknown)
Nobody gets justice. People only get good luck or bad luck. (Orson Welles)
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. (Country Western Song)
It is the mark of an inexperienced man not to believe in luck. (Joseph Conrad)
Throw a lucky man in the sea, and he will come up with a fish in his mouth. (Arab proverb)
If your are lucky enough to be Irish, you are lucky enough. (unknown)
Much can be construed about what's deepest inside me, and sometimes I know that I don't want to express or like it. But, sadly, like both sides of the coin, I embrace it heatily and deeply, keeping it close to my heart and wishing it could be the better part of me, even as ugly as it could be. It's the Dorian Grey, my hidden ugliness, my fear of what I will one day be: gnarled, grotesque, and hideous to all in my sight.
And yet ...
Yet even with this understanding, I bathe in my ruthlessness and despair, my evil crushing the resolve inside me that years of guilt and nagging have shaped me with like a hunchback at his belltower, aching for the beautiful gypsy dancer never to love him as he worships her. I am always going to be somehow ugly or gnarled, vile and sickening to my peers, my own understanding and to the intuition of of my mentality.
My mind, warped as it is, needs to be cleansed, and should be slapped like an impetuous child on run from its' responsibilities, awake & aware, but always seeking approval for the lewd and droll things it wants or the childish nature of its' own meaningless existence.
Do I want to be aware of the good I do, or would I rather wallow in the misery I create for myself, my own painting fiasco of splattered misery and crude expression?
Lord knows I'm no Jackson Pollock.
My ideas are splattered all over the world, in message boards and on notes around the planet, and I hope to make the universe my canvas, creating the most amazing art there ever could be shown to the world. I want to be famous, incredibly famous, and ready to conquer all there is inside me and outside of the lives of the people I know now. I'm just a simple kid from San Antonio, a southsider who made good by getting a degree and a good job, but ... honestly, is 'this' all there is for me?
Has the last chapter of my book been written already?
Or have I been doing the rewrites since I was 27, failing and rebuilding, hoping and wishing, crying and laughing constantly, loving the need to do good more than the people who love me? Is that even a question any longer, or just the beginning of my mission statement?
Toxic lyrics - a Britney Spears song (sung as a cover by Yael Naim)
Baby, can't you see? I'm calling a guy like you Should wear a warning It's dangerous, I'm fallin'
There's no escape I can't wait, I need a hit Baby, give me it You're dangerous, I'm lovin' it
Too high, can't come down Losing my head Spinning 'round and 'round Do you feel me now?
With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slipping under With a taste of poison paradise I'm addicted to you Don't you know that you're toxic? And I love what you do Don't you know that you're toxic?
It's getting late To give you up I took a sip from my devil cup Slowly, it's taking over me
Too high, can't come down It's in the air And it's all around Can you feel me now?
With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slipping under With a taste of poison paradise I'm addicted to you Don't you know that you're toxic? And I love what you do Don't you know that you're toxic?
Don't you know that you're toxic?
With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slipping under With a taste of poison paradise I'm addicted to you Don't you know that you're toxic?
With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slipping under With a taste of poison paradise I'm addicted to you Don't you know that you're toxic?
Intoxicate me now With your lovin' now I think I'm ready now I think I'm ready now Intoxicate me now With your lovin' now I think I'm ready now
I have heard that THIS was what caused nice guy Chris Brown to go apeshit and pimp slap her to the point of an arrest and total public humiliation.
There were rumors that Chris Brown may have leaked the phots himself, to make her more miserable, but then again, why would he do that considering what images were also leaked of him? (See below)
When I saw this image I got a REALLY good laugh, and I almost lost all control of myself; after all IF he leaked the images shouldn't he have edited out the picture of himself wearing a woman's thong/panty on his head?
Personally, he should be glad he wasn't cuckcolded openly, like some men have found themselves, like above in the image.
I think we need to stop the violence. If Rihanna want to give away her goodies LET HER! As long as she's old enough LEGALLY then we can only appreciate or ignore the images on the web.
And if not I guess then we're gonna have to spank this precious angel.
The only aphrodisiac I need is your voice Hearing you speak my name Beckoning me to answer Telling me you want me So I tell you that you're the answer to every question I've ever had about love
Without words I use my tongue to tell the tale of us Tracing your shadowscape Kneeling before you my eyes feast upon your masculinity and All it's divinity and I praise you Because all of that is for me
I begin to indulge myself of your delicacies Digesting semi-sweet dark chocolate decadence as it melts Dripping down my chin Your taste is something Godiva couldn't re-create
Needing every atom of your anatomy Necessity is placed upon me knowing you are the source of my serendipity Dipping in and out of me stroking more than my consciesness Subconsciously I find myself rewinding our love scenes In my daydreams Seeing that face you make when you're making me cum And it makes me want you right there and then
Thinking of you in inappropriate places I get Tingling sensations in private locations where I wish to be caught between a rock and your hard place
As wetness develops my legs begin to open and my spot turns to a backdraft and all I want you to do is extinguish it You know my body like the back of your hands And touch me and send me into ecstacy
My thighs quiver in anticipation of deep penetration which gets me high Body rising Sweating Panting Make-up melting Pulling my hair and Scratching my back I get a temporary case of tourettes because all I can say are four letter words in a four octave-range screaming your name
Aye papi.... *English Translation of Spanish Lyrics* "You are so big and so hard, you give it to me so good, you are my mortal sin."
(Aye papi, eres tan grande y tan duro y mo lo das tan bueno...tu eres mi pecado mortal...cojelo otra vez...)
You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual
I see your tongue pink between your lips and I want it between mine And I struggle As you lick torturing me I try to get away but Not really
Running out of room begging for more up against the wall that has been scuffed by my stilletos Again You pry apart my thighs and tell me to be still And I willingly submit to you because I love the way you dominate me Demanding that I cum for you so I do as I'm told
You've molded me so I'm good to no-one else but you You've conquered this once orgasmicless world and multiplied it Again and Again
My face radiates with after-glow My pillow scented by you A fragrance which haunts me My room smells of the best sex
Covered in body prints and finger prints and you above me Your name written indelibly upon my body in your genetic history
You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual You fucking me makes me bilingual
*************
************
In a few weeks I may find myself leaving Texs to make someone happy, savoring the lust of my heart and soul the angel I have dreamed about for the last few years.
We've spent the last few years on phone calls & on cams & in chats of the most perverted kind - and it's been WONDERFUL!
She will make me bilingual and I shall hopefully be groaning & enjoying myself long in a weekend delight of carnal pleasures and absolute bliss.
All my fantasies fulfilled in her body and soul.
I am going to make myself smile - period.
I deserve the smile; this is my graduation gift to me.
**** The school I'm working at has just offered me a job, and I hate the idea that now my dreams have become solidified into a 'job'. I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to write more erotic short stories or play on-line with my friends & part-time lovers.
No phone sex.
No real sex.
No visits.
At this point, to alleviate my madness I am thinking about just going to visit one of my lovers before the window of pleasure and timing closes once and for all. I am glad she's my friend & lover and she makes me smile in ways you can't imagine, and NOT just for sex or perversions, but with her friendship and her desire to make me happy, inside and out.
I'd leave my life in Texas for her.
She's worth the chaos, the madness, the weirdness, and the spinning lies and paranoia.
Life only allows a few gambles in life: this could be one of them for me.
I'm either returning with a big smile on my face and memories galore, or I am going to be chased back to the US by a missed-meeting chance and a so-close-and-yet-so-far-away moment. It would be nice and I could have a little hope for the greatest sexual experience or I could be sorely disappointed.
I've actually been invited to Alabama, and to Florida.
Maybe I'll need to take more trips this summer.
If you look at this statue you'll see a small gold charm tied to the wrist. This is called a 'milagro', which is a way for the faithful to transmit prayers and hopes for small miracles to occur via the favorite saint of devotion.
Almásy: New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire.
(later in the movie after the plane crash)
Almásy: Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again.
Hana: If one night I didn't come to see you, what would you do? Kip: I'd try not to expect you. Hana: Yes, but if it got late ... and I hadn't shown up? Kip: Then I'd think, there must be a reason. Hana: You wouldnt come to find me? Hmm, that makes me never want to come here. Then I'd tell myself, 'He spends all day searching. In the night he wants to be found.' Kip: I do. I do want you to find me. I do want to be found.
Almásy: I promise, I'll come back for you. I promise, I'll never leave you.
I am looking for someone special in my life; some days I feel so damned trapped and other days I feel like the great libertine that I wish I were. The hedonist has tripped, and has fuckin' fallen down.
I am hoping to find someone special ... someone who will fulfill my wants & needs. Hopefully I'll know something more about my heart with this delight and this search for my dream.
Maybe my dreams are warped ... but I've wanted them for SO long. They have never waned.
I am student teaching, and I am unhappy. I can be a good teacher, and I can be a good student but I don't think I'll ever be happy doing this job. And I literally mean, 'a job' ... a fuckin' job.
It's not joyous, I am not going to live for long, and I plan to live a LONG fuckin' life and have the thrills of a lifetime.
I need to live my life as I want, not as I need. I complain often and crush my hopes and desires with the impossiblities first, fantasizing and thinkin' about 'what could be if God did this for me' and accepting that this is te only way things will happen for my life & dreams: 'Divine Intervention'.
No more.
No fuckin' more!
Jump!
JUMP!!
I must take the last step, the leap-of-faith, or I'll never have children, joy or honesty and love in my life.
I hae to do what I Love as much as I have to do what it takes to make it all come true.
Recently I've been told that I am very much depressed, and I know that I am just dissatisfied with where the road is taking me. Maybe I need to follow what Frost called "The Road Not Taken", and see where I go with this path.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
"EVERYBODY GOT TO HAVE A DREAM." ~ DJay: [at the end of the movie, when walking back to his cell]
I know that I've already acted in small movies, and I love writing, teaching and creating. One of the greatest joys I ever had was the coffe house program with the kids from my church; a friend of mine told me how he did so 'impersonation is the greatest form of flattery', and I did the same thing with my class.
It worked, and I loved it.
It gave me the chance to showcase and it gave me the chance to showcase others.
I want that again.
Dreams have to happen soon - or I am going to die without ever making a smile happen or a dream wake to the sunrise.
IF HE CHANGED MAH NAME Traditional Negro Spiritual As sung by Benjamin Matthews (Opera Ebony)
I told Jesus it would be all right if He changed mah name, changed mah name. I told Jesus it would be all right if He changed mah name, changed mah name. I told Jesus it would be all right if He changed mah name, changed mah name.
Jesus told me I'd-a have to live humble if he changed mah name, changed mah name. Jesus told me I'd-a have to live humble if he changed mah name, changed mah name. Jesus told me I would have to live humble if he changed mah name, changed mah name.
Terrence Howard (DJay) Feat. Taraji P. Henson (Shug) -
It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp Lyrics
[Chorus 2X: Shug - singing] + (Djay) You know it's hard out here for a pimp (you ain't knowin) When he tryin to get this money for the rent (you ain't knowin) For the Cadillacs and gas money spent (you ain't knowin) [1] Because a whole lot of bitches talkin shit (you ain't knowin) [2] Will have a whole lot of bitches talkin shit (you ain't knowin)
[Djay] In my eyes I done seen some crazy thangs in the streets Gotta couple hoes workin on the changes for me But I gotta keep my game tight like Kobe on game night Like takin from a ho don't know no better, I know that ain't right Done seen people killed, done seen people deal Done seen people live in poverty with no meals It's fucked up where I live, but that's just how it is It might be new to you, but it's been like this for years It's blood sweat and tears when it come down to this shit I'm tryin to get rich 'fore I leave up out this bitch I'm tryin to have thangs but it's hard fo' a pimp But I'm prayin and I'm hopin to God I don't slip, yeah
[Chorus]
[Djay] Man it seems like I'm duckin dodgin bullets everyday Niggaz hatin on me cause I got, hoes on the tray But I gotta stay paid, gotta stay above water Couldn't keep up with my hoes, that's when shit got harder North Memphis where I'm from, I'm 7th Street bound Where niggaz all the time end up lost and never found Man these girls think we prove thangs, leave a big head They come hopin every night, they don't end up bein dead Wait I got a snow bunny, and a black girl too You pay the right price and they'll both do you That's the way the game goes, gotta keep it strictly pimpin Gotta have my hustle tight, makin change off these women, yeah
[Chorus]
[Thanks to lordof4square@aol.com, sweet2beknown@yahoo.com for lyrics]
I don't have a lot of money, and I am working hard to make my student teaching a success, and I wish I had more money or balls, so I need to stretch what little there is ...
~sigh!~
I was hunting for a chance to pay back some people when I ran to an ATM on the cool, relaxed Sunday afternoon. I was thinking 'Dammit, I really need more money', and was glad that I had the money in my pocket & account at that moment.
And then ... she walked up. The $10 & $20 bills just exited the machine when I drove out of the shade of the awning of the bank, and as I eased into the exiting driveway, I saw a woman rushing up, slumped shoulders, watching me, seeing me and waving, signalling, saying "Excuse me ... sir, excuse me."
Fuck.
She wore a purple tracksuit, no make-up, African-American about 40+ years of age, and holding a large purse with sneakers to match the outfit. I kept my window rolled up, but she basically walked into the locked door of the car, tapping the window with long nails.
"Excooze me sirrah", she softly lilted at me, as if working to be kind or calm, "but my car broke down and I am parked at the apartments around the corner."
She spoke to me through the glass.
Honestly, I didn't give a shit and if her foot wasn't under my tires so close to my door, but I didn't feel like being sued for trying to run her down.
(I know deep inside it's bad to think like that but I'm student-teaching FOR FUCKIN' FREE, meaning I make lesson plans, work in classes, grade papers, and do it all from 745am to 430pm every day of the week without any monetary compensation; I'm being paid in experience.
BULLSHIT!!)
I hate student teachings' rules, and as you saw in some of my previous blogs, some younger students than myself have been exempted from teaching, so I have a great deal of heartbreak and loathing inside myself.
Thus ... being a little shrewish about my dwindling money makes me shiver, but it's what I guess someone else asked of me.
She looked as if she may begin hyperventilating, and then in small soft sobs, said "I just need to get out to Brook Hollow and I need money to get there ... by bus, or cab."A beat, and she said "I'd be willing to do almost anything ... to get home."
She WAS NOT pretty in any way. She was plain, a shade under ugly, and the sobbing and noise didn't help me; I was not gonna seek something that I should have sought: a blowjob.
Did she apprach me because I came out of the bank? Did she see the money on my car seat?
It was an actual temptation, to seek a hummer as I drove this ugly woman home across town, or just a hand-job. But I figured that I didn't need to risk anything with an unknown like her, and GOD she wasn't pretty.
I suddenly began wondering "Gee, where's my 'Letters to Penthouse' moment with a woman?", and why aren't my charity cases bisexual with fake tits and a willingness to be photographed like a HUSTLER vcenterfold with their toy collection or just for my lurid obscene imagination. Then I figured, maybe ... maybe a sinner needs to pay for his sins. Sadly, as I had just exited the ATM, the smallest bill I had was a $10 bill.
~Sigh!~
So, after the self-loathing and internal grossness of the woman overtook me, I pushed a $10 bill into her outstretched hand, remarking she'd better be taking a bus down on the corner VERY soon to at least get around town.
Her clothing was clean; she had a purse, jewelry, a cell phone, friends, a car, and the fuckin' BALLS to ask (and hope for) a hand-out from a stranger, ending our transation with "God Bless you", as if that would relinquish my need or internal inferiority or personal angst or sadness. I'm not driving a sports car, nor wearing designer clothes, nor eating steak dinners every night with lobster as a side. But I am able to have a little more, and to be able to give something to someone who may need or want a little for their lacking.
That was last Sunday February 15, 2009.
THIS fuckin' Sunday, after I had lunch, a cripple rolled up to me, holding his body, exiting his car, also asking me for a hand-out. Part of my inner darkened soul tells me it's hard to think about someone having the courage to ask for money, and the other part of me says 'Don't part with a fuckin' red cent; you don't have that many of them you fat bastard!'
He was missing his lower teeth, and told me a story about just needing $2 for a gallon of gas to get him a few miles down the road to the Palo Alto subdivision, because of his treatment for something or for visiting someone sick in the hospital blah, blah, blah-blah!
I gave him $5 ... never thinking twice about it.
~pause~
Am I a fuckin' idiot? Or just a fool? Why isn't one of my phone lovers living nearby where I can have the leisure of her lust satisfying my mutual desire for her?
Fear factors are setting in with the last days of my being a student teacher, or a student-anything for that matter. I am scared, fucking scared that I will never be good enough for the kids or for my 'profession'. Maybe I don't belong here. Teachers are to be trusted, and I was an expelled used car salesman living a fradulent life.
"So one day I'm taking a piss and think to meself: 'Oi, this is it. I'm married, got a bit of schoolin', and a job.' So I decide at that point to walk away. Just left 'er there with a half-eaten steak an' kidney pie, waiting for me." - Rock Star (2000)
Am I in the same place? I asked for her to do nothing but exhude heat, to be there, nothing more. My nights' sleep was fuckin' horrible, and I claimed the couch to be near my dog as a rousting of the strays went through the neighborhood, all of them barking out their territory, claiming the homes, porches, yards and vacant lots around my apartment while arousing my dog to hold the claim she has to my duplex apartment. It was intermitten, like sporadic gunfire, a bark-bark here, and so forth from 1:30am to 4:30 (or so) in the morning.
I am not happy, not in any way. I am a restrained hedonist, struggling against my bonds and my fears, dying to be more than I am today. I fight inside myself to keep from growing like a virus within the ideals of my community, unable to will myself to keep from buggering the young ones or killing off the idiots in a type of humanitarian anti-intelligence-genocide/mass murder. Idiots need to die. Fools need to be sold for their weight in meat.
I need to leave.
This is my cultural dead weight, and I don't think that I am ever gonna do anyone any good here in the state of Texas.
The fuckin' university sent me to the wrong study session for my PPR.
I need to be here for 6-hours PER STATE LAW and I am languishing here scribbling my blog and waiting to see what's gonna happen next.
"Elvira, obey me; and I will love you." - Christopher Walken "Man on Fire"
I graduate in May 2009. I won't be elidgible for ANY fuckin' job for the fall because of this testing crap and I am going to spin about making myself dizzy and sad, internally, feeling my heart collapse, and wishing I could be something more than I am today.
I always wanted to write & draw, and I can't, and I can't be successful at it. If I do something truly abstract it's given to detractors or people don't understand it. And if I do something primative, it's took smacking of realism, and anything realistic has the touch of a cartoonist; I can't win no matter what my fuckin' medium is and I am sad thinking about those thoughts.
I FEEL RIDICULOUS!!!
I've been in this lab for over 2 hours and I have nothing to show for it; noone's able to help me and I can't get a password that works in any way.
Part of me wants to cry. The other part wants to balance my checkbook & shop some more on eBay. I don't know which of these halves to follow in all honesty.
The 'professor' who was going to aid me with putting me onto the proper computer service has not come up andher Saturday class ends in 30 minutes, thus my morning has been wasted. I COULD have returned to bed, maybe entered into some meaningless, dissatisfying sex making someone else happy, but instead I am here, pounding my complaints into notepad, wishing for more than I am today.
No machine gun in my grips - I can't mow down my fears, small, large or imaginary. All I can do is hope and keep trying to do something worthwhile with my time and pray to the gods of schooling that somehow ALL this will be fuckin' resolved one day soon.
Lunch time; I think I'll balance my checkbook, maybe get a burger and a beer, and relax, thinking about what may have been or what could be something ... great, if possible.
I still want to cry.
- just not now, not here.
~ j ~
epilogue: 'The professor apologized & let me know that I can have a password to do my work later. Thus my Saturday WAS shot to fuckin' hell."
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