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something for the ladies: A thousand tongue licks deep
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14 Views
11/08/11
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My eyes took you all in, making small love to every facet of you. The eyes I wore were that of glutton, of a gaping pervert. The time for composure and the restraint that society brainwashes men so they can function in decent society had passed.
The human Rock part of me closed my eyes.
The human animal part of man opened them again.
You were melting, how shy you were. Moisture slipped down from the top of you to the bottom and all around. The air was perfumed with your aroma, mixing with the musk coming off of me so that every solitary aspect of us was joined.
I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat. You dripped but not away from me, succumbing to my expert tongue. Your body stopped moving away in automatic reaction and instead flowed into me. I could taste your femininity from my lips to the back of my tongue.
Never too fast
Never to slow.
Just……
…..right.
Passion speeds up, and what virgins and fools don’t know, one of most closely guarded secrets of perfect lovemaking and oral foreplay is that multiple orgasms are not hot.
They are cold.
Warmer than the hottest fire. Colder than the coldest night. But it is cold.
And I´m just another snowman. Standing in the rain and sleet, who loved you with his frozen love. And every time I gasp for air I take you down further into the alternate dimension that female orgasm is, beyond what males could ever feel or understand.
There is less of you, but there is more of ME.
You are taking me further with each taste of your sweet syrup. Dripping down to my jaw and mixing with my sweat.
Faster
White hot
Almost too much….
How good that feels, how sweet. My mirror twin, my next of kin,
I´d know you in any of my dreams. And who but you would take me here.
And then there is nothing of you….
Panting and ravished.
I dry my mouth off.
And leave 5 dollars tip for my waitress
thanks to the restaurant staff that didn't look at me weird when I took a picture of it!
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Two things I did that I am both ashamed and proud of.
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12 Views
11/07/11
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First one.
I was at Disneyland with my friends and there was this really obnoxious kid behind us in line, he was letting all his little friends cut in line in front of people and his parent's were turning that blind eye that grown ups have towards their kids when their being assholes. After the ride (and about 4-5 shots of vodka that we snuck into a 7-Up bottle) we see this kid buy a Carnation ice cream cup from a kiosk.
I would like to interupt with a little backstory on me:
I played pee-wee football: I was a place kicker. I held a record of 91% field goals but more importantly I have the distance record of 59 yards in our conference.
I trained under Couch Agenian, who taught me the soccer style kick. I ran up to this kid, I took two steps back, three steps to the side and I kicked that Carnation ice cream cup and I think I took a little bit of the skin of his hand/knuckles off. I said to him (and his dumbfounded father) who ran up beside with both of their jaws on the floor.
"I'll tell you something right now....that's three points...
that's three points"
ran off, never got caught
Second one.
years after the oath of silence my friends and I took, I share with you:
I was 16, just started spending my weekends getting as fucked up and high with my friends as I could. One day we drove out to an area we've never been to before and passed around Jack Daniels in the car until night fall. After dark we got out and wandered the streets, but this time we managed to break into a golf course. We stole clubs and assorted tennis/golf balls and began running round doing hockey-style slap shots for 20 minutes.
The balls sailed off into the darkness. That got boring so we decided to head back and play Street Fighter 3 on Dreamcast at my friends house. When we got back the tv was on and news of a major highway accident was playing. Apparently the golf course overlooks a isolated freeway path and our best shots were flying into car windows and causing crashes.
There were at least 6 injured.
We swore to not speak of it for 8 years.
Got away with it though
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A tribute to Spiderbro: Death of a ladies man
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7 Views
10/13/11
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Part 3 (or 2) of A Steamy Tale is almost done but I'm taking a break to write a tribute to a unsung hero. Spiderbro
Here's a true story:
Have a cute girl over for dinner one night; see cockroach in the kitchen. Oh god, the girl I brought home is going to think I'm disgusting. Spiderbro darts out from under the cabinets and grabs it. I freak out and go to stomp him. He looks up at me, I hesitate. He pulls the roach under the counter and kills it for me.
Alright, fine, he can stay.
He killed bugs for me all year. Hell, he killed other spiders for me, too. I would drops bits of meat on the floor for him to eat. We become fast friends.
Dark and stormy night. Burglars break in to rape my girlfriend and kill me. Tackle the first one, but the second one pulls a gun and points it at my face. Prepared to die. Look up, Spiderbro's on the ceiling. Drops on burglar's face, bites his eye. Burglar freaks out and starts flailing around. I grab the gun, girlfriend calls the cops. Police come, arrest burglars.
I spend the next day looking for spiderbro. No sign of him. Check his home, see a pile of roaches he killed and wrapped up, never ate them just killed them for me. Spiderbro gave his life for me.
Never forget.
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a steamy tale part 2
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26 Views
09/22/11
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I couldn't believe I heard that. Couldn't. She must have seen the surprise in my expression because she moved forward, using her body language to get the message across.
Her skirt is cleanly laundered and complements her firm thigh, contrasted with my kakhis. Her shirt is freshly pressed and slightly open. If I allowed my gaze to linger, I would see a firm set of breasts. But I didn't.
"Do you know why I called you here?" she asks. For the second time.
"Is there something wrong with your computer?" I ask. "Did you try turning it off and on again?" A reference wasted.
"It has come to my attention you've been spending hours writing about...the inefficiency of the Japanese subway system? Is this true?"
shit.
"Is this what we pay you to do? Waste company time talking about trains on the internet?"
"Well, a subway car isn't a tra-"
She stands up and walks over to me.
"Do they have trains in Japan, Mr. Rock?"
"Not in the Japanese subw-"
She sits in my lap and lets her hair down.
"What do you know about cabooses?"
She hugs me close, her breasts smashing into my oxford shirt, her breath against my neck. And over her shoulder I see that her computer finder is open to the thesaurus. The pic attached is what it was one.
Stay tuned for part three!
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A steamy tale
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28 Views
09/04/11
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Dear PC World, I never thought this would happen to me....but I my first sexual encounter at the workplace.....
I had been called to talk with management. What could it be about? Maybe my awkward behavior around the office? That couldn't be right; I talked with HR about my Asperger's and I had them call my mom for confirmation. Neurotypicals don't understand. They can't understand.
I walk down the hall. Her door is at the end of the hall. As I walk, people look at me. Some even say hello. The nerve! They don't know what I know; they don't know the difference between PAL and NTSC. They don't even care.
I finally arrive. I knock on the door.
"Come in," says a female voice.
I enter her office. Sitting behind a desk is my boss. Her skirt is cleanly laundered and complements her firm thigh, contrasted with my kakhis. Her shirt is freshly pressed and slightly open. If I allowed my gaze to linger, I would see a firm set of breasts. But I didn't.
"Do you know why I called you here?" she asks.
I was looking through our records," she said while glancing down at her Samsung Galaxy Tab 10.1, "and it says here that you're a registered sex offender." I gulped down hard, and my saliva went down my windpipe which triggered a coughing fit. She licked her lips and moved closer, breathing into my ear, "I was hoping you could take a moment and offend me...."
stay tuned for part 2!
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guys like us
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38 Views
06/22/11
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Went to the beach today, I missed the sound of the wind roaring through my ears while waves smashed onto the beach with the sound of a drum snare. I saw something I'd never seen before. I saw a pinkish, throw-up looking thing in my path on the boardwalk. At first I thought that's just what it was: throw up or snot or something similarly disgusting. After staring at it for what must have been three minutes a gull suddenly landed over it and began to snap it up, eating it.
I saw that around the pink mall were little bits of matter, like rock flecks. I realized what it was then: it was clam shell, and the pinkish thing was the clam. My mind raced back to a National Geographic thing that I saw (or read) that seagulls break the shells of clams by grabbing em', flying up to a height and dropping them so that the pink innards.
Also while watching this grotesque-fact-of-life my mind raced, I tried to look away from the gull and couldn't. The clam slammed back into the bits of shell as the gull stopped and looked me DIRECTLY IN THE EYE, it's eyes confirming every horrible truth: fathers die, mothers die, heroes die even if they play great guitar. Young men die too maybe.....and at the end all there may be is the stupid, thinking scream of living tissue.
Kept moving, kept thinking. Here writing. I addressed the whole of people's lives, the experiences that WILL end. All religions offer the same basic thing: The promise of a afterlife and the continuation of the mind's personality. The one universal thing scratches at the back of the human mind.
Death. Dying. It doesn't scare me the way I think it should. No matter how many facts about mortality deep down there is still the unshakable, blind assurance that this organism, Peter Huerta, could not die. Everybody else could die, they were extra's in the movie of my life, but not Pete, star of that long-running hit film "The Pete Huerta Story." Maybe I could eventually come to understand the untruth of that emotionally as well as intellectually...maybe that was the final depth.
Shivery unwelcome thoughts....the human mind cannot comprehend NOTHING. We don't remember going to sleep....
I wonder how it would be, to lie in the biggest library silence of all, dreaming endless, thoughtless forever in your Sunday suit. No worries about money, success, fear, joy, pain, sorrow, sex, or love. Absolute zero. No father, mother, girlfriend, lover. The dead are orphans. No company but the silence of a moths wing. An end to the agony of movement, to the long nightmare of going down the road. The body in peace, stillness, and order. The perfect darkness of death.
I have an ache in my lower right ankle, the pain itself now-seems very sweet.
I wonder about life, as if that this life itself prepares for death by offering some wonderful final hallucination, the actual semblance of an entire life. Or a infinite after-life....that you go where you probably always THOUGHT you'd go. Heaven, hell, or grand-rapids, it was your choice-or the choice of those who had taught you what you believe. It was the human minds final great parlor trick: the perception of eternity in the place where you always expected.
Awhile ago I was rushed to the emergency room. I don't remember much, I just remember being beaten up, than that time skip to being inside a ambulance, then to waking up in a hospital bed with IV needles trailing from my arm and a catheter inside my penis, a oxygen mask around my mouth.
Death, even though I lived through it, I have never been so close to death in my life. Because it was BLANK don't you see? And that part that was so cynical of life and the philosophies that I was exposed to spoke stronger than ever because at the moment it was being wired into my survival instinct. I don't remember the hospital itself, me being beaten up, or the ride home or the waking up of the next day. What I have of those are images too vague to make sense of. But I remember that voice speaking to me. It said.
"You have finally pushed to the brink, and did death come? Yes, but there was nothing spiritual about it. Nothing happened. No one was whisked to heaven or hell. They just stopped. The pain you're feeling right now is the pain of abandoning a delusion. There is no higher purpose. There is no God. No arbiters or right or wrong.
You don't have to like reality, you only have to be strong enough to fact this life until body breakdown. You may live a life of rural serenity, full of years and possibly with a false but undoubtedly pleasing sense of redemption. There is nothing beyond this. There is no essential "good" in living.
You have to win now. You have to win because winning is a place marker that proves whose winning, which is nothing, you have to win because it is A INSULT TO LOSE. There is no one to justify to. No God swept down to save you, bad things happen and if God is there he's turned a blind eye to you. If things like this happen to you then God let's it happen, and when you say "I don't understand".
God replies: "I don't care"
I'm so tired though. I'm tired of being as lonely as a robin in the rain. Not having friends to be with or tell me where we're going to or why. I'm tired of people being ugly and nasty to each other. I'm tired of all the times I wanted to help but couldn't. I'm tired of the fear of the dark.
Quote from of Mice and Men: "Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no family. They don't belong no place. . . . With us it ain't like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us. We don't have to sit in no bar room blowin' in our jack jus' because we got no place else to go. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all anybody gives a damn. But not us."
"But not us! An' why? Because I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you"
Guys like us!"
Yeah, guys like us.
Right now, if there's a sad sack anywhere on the planet who needed a little magic in their life right now, I am that person.
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PRAY TO ME
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21 Views
05/17/11
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Nobody but me is in my house until my mom gets home at 8pm. My sister doesn't talk to me, and leaves at 2.30 pm, my father left for mexico. The weight of all this time, being free for 4 months and virtually NONE of the prayers I wished for everynight in the joint have come true, every prayer unanswered. I want to use, I want to drink, I want to blot everything out now. I want to destroy my entire history and present reality.
There are voices here in the dark, the ghosts voices of my DNA and past calling out to me, like the dim voices you sometimes heard in the background when you made a long distance call, sometimes more clearly. Today one of them was very clear, indeed. Bottles, drugs, liquor, the voice of the drowning and something else....
"If you want to pray, pray to me, it said. Why would you pray to a God who gives every warmth and pleasure to everyone else but you, a God that doesn't talk or acknowledge you? Where the only person that loves you is your mother and she's bound to die sometime in the next few years? You'll never laugh laugh with friends after work or school, or sneak a lover into your dorm room, or be invited to parties. Your mom is going to be dead and you will be in jail again for using the only thing that gives you release."
"This is what your God does, and really, what else would you expect from a God who doesn't care for you? Is this a God worth having? God might not have done this, but GOD LET IT HAPPEN, he's as crazy as hell when you get right down to cases. Yet you kneeled and prayed before him. Come on, get a life.
"Pray to me. I am in every bottle of vodka, in every pill you've ever popped, in every toke you've ever taken, in every glass of beer. You can SEE ME. I'm not like a INVISIBLE SKY GUARDIAN that old black women and prisoners pray to hide from the truth. If you accounted for that, God in relation to you is still one of you crying out from pain and him turning a deaf ear, his religion filled sillyness, corny-ness, and corruption. You cry out to God, nothing happens. You cry out to the world, nothing happens. When bad things happen to you, God lets it happen, and you cry again "I don't understand why" and God replies "I don't care."
But I'm here, I'm REAL. Come on Peter. Leave all this foolishness behind: the hours-on-the computer looking for human relations and romance because you have none in your real life, the pride, your past, the fear of death, the loneliness you laugh at because laughings all you can think you can do. And the girls, leave them too. You want to love them, don't you? And even if you don't, you WANT them. It's sad that they'll never want you, that they don't talk to you, don't invite you, don't respond to you, but if you come to me, all that will stop bothering you very soon.
Pray to me, love me, and I will show you the only world of pleasure you will experience that reality has for you.
Pray to me for the times you weren't what the world considered "good enough." Not good enough to get a date in high school, not good enough to lose your virginity before 21, not good enough to be invited to a party, not good enough for the world to look at you and have understanding and kindness. Not good enough for things in person, not good-looking enough to be taken as a lover, not good-looking enough for a date on a friday night. They shut you out Peter, they leave you in the cold and dance and love in the warmth of each other. They only warmth you have Peter is the coal of resentment that stirs in you.
But here with me,here is you may. Here is yes. Here is the good turn that you never got, the fortunate meeting, the fever that broke before dawn and left your blood calm. Here is the wish that came true and the understand eye and the caress of every lover as we orgasm together and the hands of every woman you've ever wanted brushing your hair and holding you inside her and kissing your temple that was lovely Peter my Peter so beautiful my love my one.
with me, there is acceptance, you are perfect to me. Just keep taking me in, let me in around your soul and those things will cease to matter as I place my veil on you. You are my darling my one so beautiful Peter so beautiful isn't it beautiful just keep taking me and this can be forever. Just keep praying to me and this can be forever.
Pray to me. At least I'm not crazy. At least I WANT you. At least I'M REAL. You will see me everywhere and you will always look at me with those wanting eyes, with those stars of every wish you've ever wished on in those eyes.
I WILL NEVER BE JUST A MEMORY PETER. I AM REAL AND I WANT YOU."
PRAY TO ME
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b5awt4fsd
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10 Views
05/03/11
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Out of things to write down. Out of the ideas I had when I was thinking about this. Out of things to reblogg to make it look like I'm doing something here. Out of people to try to follow in hopes they'll follow me back. Out of replies to write so I could feel like I'm a part of strangers lives. Out of strangers to respond to to fool myself into thinking I have friends. Out of females on dating sites to flirt or attempt to flirt with to make up for my lack of a love life.
Out of words for poems to understand myself or or to lurr people into my world. Out of notes on the guitar that I can play with complete confidence. Out of notes that I can play with confidence that aren't now boring. Out of music to use as a soundtrack/distraction to listen to, even with more than 4262 songs.
Out of depression to serve as inspiration. Out of narcissism to masquerade as depth. Out of cliches to serve as social communication fodder. Out of 130 bucks I don't have enough money to buy me happiness. Out of real friends to have champagne with, out of sham friends to have hard liquor with. Out of dead rock stars to bond with, out of role models in life to be of use.
Out of sex fiends in my head to masturbate to, out of lovers to make love with.
"I never got rich
I never got the girl
I never got famous."
FOLLOW ME
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,
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31 Views
04/30/11
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It is shredded wheat. Not frosted. A big block of it in a plain white bowl, half full of milk. It is on a table, where a man sits. There is no other food on the table. The man is dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, and he'll put on a tie when he's finished. Maybe he's not alone, it's just very early and his family is still asleep. He takes his spoon and turns the block of shredded wheat over in its bowl, so that the other side can soak. He feels his hunger, but he waits anyway. After a period of time, of a length roughly the same as yesterday, and the day before (this time-period has become instinctual for him), he picks up his spoon and begins to break the block up. Not completely of course, just into chunks that fit squarely onto the spoon. The chunks usually have one side that's soggy and one side that's still a little bit crunchy. The way he spoons each into his mouth, along with an appropriate quantity of milk, puts the crunchy side at his teeth and the soggy side on his tongue. As he chews, the crunchy side gets pulverized while the soggy side is mashed up by the natural motion of the tongue while chewing. When he has eaten all the chunks, there is still milk left in the bowl, and in it the crumbs that resulted from breaking the initial block. He does not raise the bowl to his lips to drink the remainder; even though no one is there to see, he sticks to his etiquette and dutifully drains the bowl spoonful by spoonful. When he is finished, there are still crumbs in the bowl. He gets up from the table, takes the bowl to the sink, and quickly rinses it out. He leaves the bowl in the sink; it will be dealt with later. He walks away to get his things, and then he leaves. The sun has not yet risen
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Till the end of time....
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11 Views
04/20/11
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I love books about dystopia. I love movies about dystopia. I love any movie that even hints at the end of the world. I even was even able to stifle my vomit during "The Day after tomorrow." So I was very disappointed to find out that all the 2012 stuff is complete bullshit.
"Scholars from various disciplines have dismissed the idea of catastrophe in 2012. Mainstream Mayanist[e] scholars state that predictions of impending doom are not found in any of the existing classic Maya accounts, and that the idea that the Long Count calendar "ends" in 2012 misrepresents Maya history.[3][5] The modern Maya do not consider the date significant, and the classical sources on the subject are scarce and contradictory, suggesting that there was little if any agreement among them about what, if anything, the date might mean.[6]"
Planet X or Nibiru is also as unlikely but 10 times as scary and thus 20 times as cool.
Polar shifts and doomsday prophecy can't keep their stories straight.
Damn, I was really looking forward to being a IRL action hero.
Pic related, its V838 Mon, a star with an expanding gas shell, purported as photographic evidence of Nibiru
D'awwww its so cute.
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WAKE UP
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15 Views
04/16/11
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Had a strange dream, like almost all my dreams it was benignly terrifying, like how a carnival might be seen as after dark and all the people go away. But this time it was the wake up that stood out. Very rarely does this happen but when it does it stands out.
It was like a freakin' alien abduction. It shifted from dreamscape into my perspective in bed, but as I opened my eyes my mind was processing information in order to wake up, to differentiate from being "asleep" into "awake."
Well I was lulling myself back to sleep (its the weekend after all) and my eyes were growing closed, strange figures were showing up in my vision. I "remembered" some of the more psychedelic characters from my dream showing up next to my bed. They intensified from transparent to solid with the opening or closing of my eye lids. One was a doctor-like, Igor-type character in pure white smocks who seemed to be examining my body.
The other can only be best described as a 1950's robot that was casually (at first) leaning against the wall on the side of my bed. It too was completely white and also flickered in and out in substance depending on my eyelids.
Both were incredibly malevolent, and I could "sense" that they were trying to make me fall asleep for whatever purposes. I had to fight to stay awake, but the psychedelics weren't over yet, as my eyelashes seem to expand into cartoon style bricks. Heavier and heavier, trying to get my eyes to close.
I used all the willpower I had to stay awake, but before my last eye blink the robot started to move towards me, and animal-like claws had grown from his hands. But after that last blink I stayed awake.
I wonder what tonight's dreams might be!
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Herp derp Pearl Harbor derp derp
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10 Views
04/12/11
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These fucking stupid people, they probably saw the Michael Bay movie and thought that shit was EXACTLY how it went down. What about all the respected-have-everything-to-lose-but-nothing-to-gain military personal that had said there was a "miscommunication" about certain "war warnings" to the arrogant US before WWII even kicked off.
What about the Internment camps, where Franklin Roosevelt signed the evacuation round-up of 120,000 Americans of Japanese heritage to one of 10 internment camps—officially called "relocation centers"—in California, Idaho, Utah, Arizona, Wyoming, Colorado, and Arkansas. For two years we exposed our own to conditions just a bit less worse than Hitler was doing to the Jews on Germany and what America was fighting against.While Japanese-Americans comprised the overwhelming majority of those in the camps, thousands of Americans of German, Italian, and other European descent were also forced to relocate there. Many more were classified as "enemy aliens" and subject to increased restrictions.
If nothing else this proves as the sterling moment for global hypocrisy and set a new bar for American cynicism. Not one Asian American citizen was a traitor to their country, all the spies for Japan were born American's of caucasian descent.
The loss of human life, so much pain and death to be greeted by empty headed faggot frat boy/sorority girl forethought. I am ashamed to be a American by this, knowing that foreign views will look at the much more en-massed aforementioned morons and think that it is the perspective of the entire country.
I am sorry Japan.
Beyond words.
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love in vain
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17 Views
04/10/11
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There's been alot of complaining on the net, a lot of talk and opining on the net, a lot of blogging and (oddly always public) entries and additions to (also public) profile topics about what the opposite sex want's from one another. I've read alot of things from women who think that being a female in their mid-twenties qualifies them to be sex therapists, dating-magazine columnists, masters of reading the human psyche, or some other profession that presumptively believes it holds all the cards in the area of syntax and sociology.
I've also had my e-shouldered cried on by fellow males about how stuck up the women online are, how the odds are SO stacked against them online where a girl can just catch a fade and break contact, leaving the dropped dudes wondering "What did I do wrong!? SHE WON'T EVEN TALK TO ME!!!" and after enough rejections how bitterness grows. I've dealt with some myself, but I got over it. I guess with my age came the experience, maturity, and self respect I've risen above those things. A kind of, I like to think of it as, armored virtue has and always will stay with me.
I use to think I could change the world, change people, but I realize now that you can only change and try to understand yourself and your world view. Change yourself, change the world. But that doesn't mean you can't share what you've learned. Happiness is only real when shared, and the only way we demonstrate we truly own something is by how easy it is to give away.
Guys, you have to keep trying, you have to work uncovering and displaying how interesting you are. Do as much as you can do to improve yourself. Also, I learned that women are used to being approached, flirted with, and picked up on in general by men. Even women who are what you might call ‘average’ are approached by men on a pretty regular basis. So when you’re about to approach a woman, keep in mind that it’s not like you’re going to try something that she’s never
heard of before and shock her. You may not be totally comfortable yet just walking/messaging/winking up to any woman, but she’ll be relatively OK with it.
Also don't wink, it displays a lack of confidence, of conversational dead air, and a lack of social skills. Try talking with different people, randomly 5 people a day to develop social intuition. I've spent my whole life getting myself out of ruts. If the worlds jumping around you, you jump with it. I gotta take a break, all that's going through my mind right now is cliche's.
Late
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ATTENTION HIPSTER AND INDIE COMMUNITY
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13 Views
04/06/11
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I tried. I really tried to be a hipster and like the music. I still like the music, I still have the same black frame glasses and wear hoodies 80% of the time. But I cannot, repeat, CANNOT WEAR SKINNY PANTS. The things in my pockets keep rubbing against my upper thighs and it's completely impossible to walk uphill ANYWHERE wearing them.
Also my junk is large (honest) and keeps getting friction burn from the afore mentioned jeans.
Also they are often black, which is a color that attracts alot of heat and living in southern california is not the place for calling attention to yourself temperature wise. I shave my head as well, I cannot and will not grow the shaggy Justin Beiber/pop punk swoosh thing that I see you kids wearing.
I still like your music, some of it, y'know what? It's more like a little of it. Some bands that I actually like but are no longer hip seeing as how they are all COMPLETE FUCKING SELLOUTS: Modest Mouse, Arcade Fire, Death Cab for Cutie, Iron and Wine, Neutral Milk Hotel, the Pixies, The Shins, The Smiths, REM (in small doses, in small doses) and many other bands (you've never heard of them.....trust me)
But I still go to my classic rock, the music I was raised on since the cradle (and also the womb, hell probably even pre-coitus.) I was listening since "And the cradle will rock" by Van Halen since I was literally ROCKING IN THE CRADLE.
I can't do it, I can't keep up the shameful secret anymore. The quick change of my Ipod when I sense someone looking over my shoulder, making me FF from Led Zeppelins "Out on the Tiles" to "New Slang" by the Shins. Also the women in the scene are too skinny.
And to the girl I met at the Deadmau show, if your reading this THAT WAS THE WORST SEX I EVER HAD. You don't move sharp to the side in jerky motions while your on top, ITS A PENIS NOT A FUCKING BUMPER KART JOYSTICK
Goodnight, and enjoy hipster kitty.
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bewbs
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14 Views
04/03/11
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What? It's exactly my type. I don't really like too-thin girls because most of the time they um.....don't have anything up top. That's why I'm honestly not turned on by supermodels, they look like aliens.
Give me a sorta big girl with some rack any day.
*Raises beer* A TOAST TO WELL-ENDOWED BIG GIRLS *chug*
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"How do you handle heartbreak Rock?"
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8 Views
03/29/11
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I post on the internet about it
edit srs post: I've had my heart broken approximately twice, all in my early twenties. I haven't put my heart 100 percent in any relationship since, I offer only bits and pieces until the girl has proven she can handle the most.
Since then I don't pine or chase after any ONE girl. I look at it this way "Are you gonna be the guy who sits around upset over one girl? Or are you the guy who called over another girl and then forgot all about it?"
I might be called a whore by women who have much more (options) callers don't understand that guys have to fend for themselves or catch a fade. And as empathetic as women are deemed to be, they will not necesarily later wallow in the pathos with a solitary tear on her cheek, full of regret for ditching you in that dark part of the universe where all the broken-hearted and hurt go to.
The most important fact life has ever taught me: If you give up, the world will let you
Sorry for the emo pep talk, close to the heart this is.
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coffee
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13 Views
03/22/11
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Assholes that order shit at a coffee shop in which the coffee is pretty much an afterthought. For one thing, it takes forever. First they make that shot of espresso, then they add the gallons of milk or steamed milk, shots of syrup, and that dash of whip cream complete with the loving sprinkles. All so that the trendy little faggot hipsters don't have to taste anything that resembles coffee from a coffee shop because what the shit sense would that make? And for a neighborhood that is so health-conscious, adding all that bovine mucous and crazy amounts of sugar/HFCS in the morning will keep you going while you preach to your coworkers about their bad eating habits all day. I just want my simple cup of coffee because, like the dirty freak I am, I like the taste. So shut up with your mocha frappo latte bullshit, go find a nice cow pasture and throw a teaspoon of coffee at a cows tit and do a body shot, chase it with a fist full of sugar, and then you can be the fuck out of my way so I can enjoy my simple cup of pleasure without marveling at all of the coffee hating bullshit going on at the corner coffee shop.
Edit: and don't you dare bring up soy milk. I milked a soy tit the other day and it made me so hard. Wait, that's right, soy does not have tits since IT IS A BEAN AND THEREFORE DOES NOT MAKE MILK. FUCK OFF!
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happy living
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11 Views
03/20/11
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1. When in a bar, drink what you want to drink. Who cares if your bartender happens to be a snooty neckbeard who might think less of you? You're probably not trying to impress him, befriend him, or get into his pants. Drink what you want to put into your mouth. Drink what tastes good to you. Sure, try a variety of drinks in your life, but never, ever, ever, loving ever feel even a twinge of shame for ordering a drink that you like to drink just because some douchebag might think less of you.
2. When ordering a steak, order it how you want. Presumably, at this point in your life, you've tried a steak done a thousand different ways and you know what you like. If you like your steak like shoe-leather, then order it that way. Don't feel bad. Don't let anyone tell you that you're wasting your money or that you can't taste the soul of the cow unless his juices are still bloodied and blessed by a priest. Maybe you grew up and your parents overcooked meat, so every once in a while, you like well-done steak because it takes you back. Maybe you like a steak that's bluer than blue and rare enough to still go by the cow's pet name, Mr. Moo Moo. Restaurants ask you how you want your steak to be done because it's a personal thing. Be a loving real person and order your steak how you like it best.
3. When you're in a bathroom. Stop caring about the other people in the bathroom. Stop holding in a turd just because someone else might be on to you that you are releasing shit from your sphincter. You are not a ninja, you do not need to ninja shit. Everybody shits. Who cares what other people, other people who can't even see you when you are in a stall, think about your shitting. It's going to happen. That shit is going to come out of your rear end whether you like it or not, so have some confidence here. shit it out for once, not caring about the noise, smell, or what anyone loving thinks. Then walk out of that cell proudly and wash your hands without waiting in shame for everyone to leave. You don't care what they think. Trust me, you don't. Have you ever wondered why the few times you've heard someone blast shit out of their rear end without a care and then waltz out of the stall and say hi to you like it's nothing, that it's been an old man? That's because it took him a lifetime to learn what I'm telling you right now.
4. If anyone ever has you pinned-down as weird, geeky, nerdy, strange, odd, hosed-up, insane, annoying, or puts you into any other dismissive, derisive box of description, then it is a gift not a curse. Don't you get it? If people around you think that you are weird, and there's nothing that you can do to change their minds, then stop trying. It's a gift. It's a glorious gift, because, now, you are free. If someone thinks that you are weird, then you are free to be the weirdest possible person you can be. You're a heavyweight of weirdness. If you ever want to see someone break out some true genius, it's the day when they realize that, since they've been pinned-down and described as being some particular type of person, that they can now stop trying to be someone they are not.
Stop letting other people, people you don't know, people you don't care about, decide what you drink, what you eat, and how you act. You will become the person equivalent of elevator music. See, elevator music and that shit you hear playing in grocery stores came about because it's the music that is the least disliked by the most people. If you played Led Zeppelin, I would shop and rock my pants off, but, in utilitarian rules, if 2/3rds of people dislike Led Zeppelin, then it would have a net effect worse than elevator music. The rule of elevator music decides what's on TV. It decides who gets to be president. It decides that bland pop singers are fantastic and famous. It makes Avatar rocket to the top of the box office. Nothing original or notable comes from elevator music. You do not want to mold your life like elevator music and make decisions just because it renders you "universally less dislikeable".
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yes my sweet.....yesssss.....
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15 Views
03/07/11
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I was catching the bus home from the library yesterday, and I'd barely eaten, so I felt incredibly tired. Now, I happened to sit behind a girl on the bus. She was young, and had long hair, but she didn't pay any attention to me, so I barely noticed she was there.
Eventually, the motion of the bus lulled me into a bit of a relaxed state, and I had the sudden urge to rest my head on the back of the seat in front of me. The girl was leaning forward and doing something with her bag, so I thought she wouldn't even care.
Anyway, I rested my arm on the top of the bus seat in front of me, and then put my head on my arm and closed my eyes.
Straight away I felt uncomfortable, so I opened my eyes again and the girl had moved to the front of the bus. She must have moved because of me -- as if I was smelling her hair or something. I felt like an idiot.
I decided I needed to clear my name. We were the only ones on the bus, so I didn't feel weird calling out to her.
"I wasn't smelling your hair. I didn't want you to move."
She turned around, looking very stale-faced at first, but then she smiled and said "Oh, no. No, this is my stop." And then she rang the bell and got off.
I completely misinterpreted the situation. I kept thinking about it all afternoon and I just could not get the smile off my face.
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had to cry today
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11 Views
02/26/11
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Finished volunteer work, got a clap on the back and a thanks for the help, a light for my cigarette and Led Zeppelin on my cd player. Such as has been my life for the past few weeks. Downtown Pomona is a pretty scenic place, but even scenic places dull you after awhile. It's a Friday, and I was drifting around, past the youth industry complete with all the latest fashion outposts, I was doing my ghost thing.
Past all these people, these couples, these daters, these friends. There's enough of the old me to feel that sullen coal of resentment glow in my chest. To give away that part of me would be to murder myself. I've been through alot these last few years, but all my accomplishments are shadowed by the doors shut in my face, the rejection and the fact that they exclude me.
Tough old' world.
Come back and come online and feel worse. Today the ghost of every humiliation I have suffered cried inside of me. I scanned through girls and guys and wondered about all these people online, having the relationships and friendships and loves that were denied to me. I felt the old impotent hate. This is how it feels to be on your own. How could these people have sympathy, empathy, or a caring eye for me? They have everything, and what they don't by accident have others are quick to give them. What do they know of love, its never been hard for them, not really.
They're pretty. They never had to think about wanting or needing or about being this lonely. They never had to find.....other ways to get the things that you had to have. There is always some douchebag to give it to them. All they ever had to do was smile and say please. I could never get the things I wanted that way. You, blessed with all the things I'm not.
My murdered dreams and ambitions come back to eldritch life and ask if I can forget them so easily. Until now I didn't realize how sad I was. Sometimes you don't, because its just, I dunno, all around. I went upstairs to my room and cried my eyes out for awhile, time broke down and passed me, days, weeks, months, years of grief came out.
Loneliness raged through me, my realization of my outcast status is now complete, I cried more. I didn't weep hysterically or shriek as some people do when they mask rage with tears, I cried the steady sobs of one who has discovered just how alone he is, and is apt to remain for a long time yet. I cried because all the mercy and reason seemed to have departed from this world.
I was crying, and I can bear to tell you no more of that-only that I had to pray to every God and wish on every star, every foxhole wish and extra life was called on in this time. I comforted and picked myself as well as I could, and, as you probably know from your own bitter expierance, is never quite good enough.
I came down stairs and my Mom was asleep on the couch wrapped up in blankets, my footsteps woke her a little. She smiled at me, the smile that took me back to when I was little and Mom was the world, before manhood came and took her child and turned him into the loved stranger that was living in her house. I remember being 7 and walking with my mom around the park, and there years later having the same feelings, loving her so damn much.
For people like us, little people who went scurrying through the world like mice in a cartoon, sometimes laughing at the assholes was the only revenge you could ever get. I was blessed with a great sense of humor.
goodnight.
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