she doesnt like me looking at other girls so she just sends pictures of herself.
i dont mind.
the clock just spins around. every night on the train home i have visions of sugar cubes dancing in my head, but when i pour myself to bed and turn off the christmas lights i see i have accomplished very little. i am killing the carpal. it’s nearly gone.
the phone rings but its not you. it rings and it rings. i want to switch over to how the deaf have it where the lights flash instead of the ringing cuz i like blinking lights and i love to give my neighbors the impression that something very mysterious is happening in my bachelor pad, but its all very obvious.
opened the front door last night to collect my mail. i get a tremendous amount of mail for a man with no credit cards, and a fat white cat, spotless, greeted me with a meow.
totally startled me. at first i thought it was a stray but the hair was so freshly groomed, it must have been a neighbor’s cat. it meowed cuz it was hungry? it wanted to be petted? it wanted to be a dog?
if it were a dog i would have let it in, instead i said, sorry little cat, stay outside and eat the mice.
there are no mice in my little courtyard behind the white picket fence.
and i like to keep it that way.
chatted on the instant messenger a little. warmed up some chicken that i had george forman grilled sunday night. i cooked up six breasts on sunday and i will eat them each night with a baked potato and either a can of green beans or a can of peas. im so easy to please you have no idea.
i once had a houseguest for a very short period of time. a russian girl. spectacular. she didnt know any english and i didnt know any russian. she wanted to move to new york city and needed a place to stay for a week. i had a futon mattress. i made chicken and peas and potatoes for her every night and we drank vodka because i figured she’d like that. the vodka just made her cry so we switched over to rum.
she read and we listened to jazz and at night she would suck me off and curl up on the futon.
im probably in the very low percentile of bachelors who dont think that the bj is the pinnacle of human contact. i think it’s nice. i think its a really nice gesture. i think visually it can be spectacular, and its loaded with symbolism. but unless youre driving somewhere and the girl is bored, or if youre just being naughty in a public place, i could live without it and it would be fine.
i did date a chinese girl in frisco once who told me that she just loved having it in her mouth. she said some guys just love sucking on tits and she was just a girl who always wanted that there.
i think my pale skinny russian guest was like that because the look in her eyes was much differnet than how she looked when she did the dishes after our meal.
anyway, now its hard for me to think about bbq chicken and peas and potatoes and not think of her.
today i will go to the publisher for the final time and beg and give him all the money i have and expect the lowest of quality and the absence of any customer service whatsoever. maybe thats why my blogger header isnt the cheeriest.