so
last night
um
so
Yesterday
right?
i buy some herbs
unha de gato
and
salvia
i go to visit this guy i met on line
the whole time we’re in the computer room
the whole time he’s on the computer
or me
like fuckin junkies.
we have sex
but he can’t get hard
and he’s taking pictures
and it’s porn.
right?
the tea was good though
and he’s nice
so i leave
and go to another guy’s house
who i met on the internet
and he’s like
all over in a millaaasecond
and like, totally in love
and all that angel shit
and like
after the sex
i say
>>why did i just do that?<:trust issues.
daddy!
so, daddy.
daddy demands my attention
but doesn’t keep my interest
he walks me around, holding my hand
the little french girl in my head
who always says “excuse` moi… Merci” on the train
she turns into a bitchy queen and starts taunting
“Oh, le Cling, Le CLING”
i ditch daddy and go dance with the hot guy (who i didn’t meet on the internet, but outside of the bar on the street)
we’re dancing hand in hand, arm in arm
disco-diva hands over our heads
there’s jimmy summervill
there’s brazilian traditional stuff with acordians
but i’m feeling all guilty about daddy
and what’s worse
i can’t keep from kissing this guy
and it’s just a kiss
no
dominic has to dive down his throat
ohhh, dominic.
i feel guilty, poor daddy
poor guy in front of me who’s not just been in san francisco
(and for you folks at him, SF is all about melting boundaries (for me) all about “hi, could i dive into you?” — freaks me out, very addictive, very dangerous)
poor me, who’s feeling like a freak
adriano behind me smoking a joint
not offering any to me
suddenly it all comes crashing down
and when i’m on a binge
i crave moments like these
i bow out
walk home
(um, hotel)
and sit
try to write, pen goes dead
commissserrratte with myself
try to read
Ganesha… great stuff in there
One Hundred Year’s of Solitude
“he didn’t like death too much, had to come back… couldn’t stand the solitude”
wow.
fall asleep
yeah, sleep
fine.
i sleep
wake up wishing i was dead.
sometimes life’s just like that
“you’re an angel
you’re a deamon
you’re just… human”
— james, “lullabye”
let’s cut this post in half