Halloween Troubles.

So my friend James is going to be taking me some big gay Halloween party the last weekend of the month-roughly a week and a half away-and I need a costume. It's been about ten years since I actually bothered doing the costume bit for the day, so I'm a little rusty when it comes to actually picking a damn costume.

So understandably, I'm in the dark. I need something workable-something that would survive a night of dancing (very very bad dancing) and heavy drinking (very very heavy drinking) without being a big mess. I also don't plan on spending a fucking ton on it either-much better for the booze in any case.

Ok. There's my problem. Now fix it.

Back.

It's no big deal.

Don't go jumping all over the place. You'll break something, if not someone.

I miss the place, that's all. Simple as it is.

I'll start with something real tonight.

Hey.

I am a man with advanced ideas on life.

Not just ideas...advanced ideas.

Fancy feast like a motherfucker over here.

A visit to Craigslist Part 2.

"...remember, wear a hoody for your woody." Good to see creative people still exist.

"Looking for Lambchop lookalike!" It's not a song. It just never ends.

"Sometimes you feel like a nut..." He wasn't selling candy bars.

"Do you or someone you know have 'Meth Mouth'?"" Good God, I sure hope not.

"Bust a nut!" Sounds like a new video game involving squirrels.

"...who wants a bj before 1pm today!" Wow. Now that's service.

Hood
hood
howdy
hoot
goody
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Lamb chop
Lamb-chop
Membership
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Meths
Met
Math
Moth
Myth
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squirrels
squirrel's
quarrels
squirrel
surreals
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Bk
bk
NJ
VJ
B
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that's
thetas
Thad's
that
hats
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service
serve
perceive
survive
deceive
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Revert to "sercive"

Pussy Hairs.

Might be starting something new.
Different.
Out of my element on this one.
For so long I've dealt with the bottom of the barrel, the brain dead, the lazy, the incompetent, the true face of the middle classed working man. Picking up stuff, putting it on a truck, taking it off the truck, putting it down.
"Hey, how are ya?"
"Gee, thanks."
"Right here would be great."
"Please, watch the floors."
"You see her ass, man?"
"She had little pussy-hairs in her bathtub."
Might be moving on. To the...downtown. One World Financial. Big shit huh? Not in the bit. mail-room duties. Decent wages. After hours, I ain't doing no dress-code tango. Jeans, black t-shirt, and be happy I even showed up. I hope this will open something new up in my third eye. A new porno-rag to come across from. "Stories from the Office".
I am sickened already.
Stay tuned. Or tune out. Your call.

Fic: Season Beats

Season Beats


I can hear the gentle rustling of the chains on the swings. It’s a last call for a mean winter. Not going quietly into that good night, and you have to admire that.
The freedom of the day is still in the air, finding new life in the night’s breeze. Telling tales of games of tag, long lines at the slides, found adventure in the jungle gym; of happy children. The brilliant unapologetic song of youth. It’s beautiful; though, symphonic as it is; its mere background noise compared to you. Watching you move, dancing away on the moon’s time-past the benches and towards the trees. I’ve got all my life to be with you, and it’s nowhere near enough.
What are you smiling at, you ask me. If I tried to form the answer with words, it’d never work. I’d end up breaking down, falling on my knees and screaming to the skies, You. You. You. Loud and totally un-bashful thanks to the lords above. For the time I’ve been graced with you in my life. So I skip the words, failingly as they usually are, and move to you. My arms around you, lips to yours, I fall into our love. Moving to the beat of a new season finding it’s footing, and of an old one passing on.

Breakfast Pondering.

Person #1: Where do you think clouds go when they die?

Person #2: Shut up and eat your oatmeal.

One more.

One more reason to hate myself.

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