funny how someone changes you. funny how a person arrives and alters your reality. I could say I felt this coming. But I know I've said the same about all of the rest. This almost feels repetitious. We both know that this is just how it goes.
I cut my fucking hair. For a couple of days shy of a week, I had been putting scissors to my head every day. I'd begin to feel anxious. I looked the way I had always looked. I looked plain. I looked normal. The shimmer wasn't strong enough. So I kept cutting. Every fucking day. Until I didn't look like me to myself anymore. maybe a little better. On the outside, that's what she says.
I'm 25 now. I wanted the whole goddamn week to be a blur. well, well, well.
I went to a show of Daniel's. Three bands played. He had been nicer to me that evening than he had been in a long time. Now that we're not fucking anymore, and the awkward stage had passed, we are back to friendship. Thank God. His band Asylum played first. It was great, enjoyable. It had a very free feeling to it, though at times as the wielder of the percussion element of the music, Daniel would maneuver the beat, grasping hold of it and taking it elsewhere. I'm glad I got to taste him when I did. I'm glad there are no more lingering curiosities. I'm glad the torture is over. I spoke to greg for awhile. That was fun, but he's Eleanore's (my roommate's) marked territory. Not that I was interested to begin with. The last band was the best. Modern hair metal it seemed to me. Nu metal? I suppose. Meh. 3 out of the 4 men in the band had long, wavy locks they'd whip around to the beat of the music. It was slightly feminine, but not really. Over-dramatic. Almost a theatrical element. Thus sexy. The front man was slender like me, with long dark brown hair. The way he clutched and motioned with his microphone was so phallic in nature. I couldn't help but stare him down and laugh to myself. Mid second pitcher of PBR my bubbling conversation with familiars grew tired, though my eyes were still of gloss. Daniel's eyes lingered on me a time or two too often. And things he said under his breath hinted at his trouble obsession. We're all the same, I'm sure. This block of 20somethings is like a block of cement.
Cash is runnin low these days. 'tis a shame I may have to put my pink secret on an iron pole. For no more than 30 days of my life.
My birthday party was dope. I was completely fucked on vodka and redbull from about 40 minutes into the party, till I passed out 3 hours later on someone's bed. I think I made out with a GodsGirls' boyfriend. oops. I vaguely remember ending up in the bathroom w him alone. making eyes at him. Asking him if he was still with the tattooed girl. Then suddenly him kissing me while I sat surrounded by a heap of coats in the coat room. I bit his lips, and wondered what the fuck he was doing kissing me. I tasted his mouth, his lips, his tongue. I bit him again. He pulled away smiled at me and walked away. What the fuck. Good kisser though. I hear the girl is with him, but still does fetish services. I guess I can't feel so bad then.
I think I recall running out of the bathroom, with my hot pink pants half done, jumping to gyrate in front of one the boys there who I'd demanded a dance from earlier in the evening. One of the familiars, I consider him. He looked a little scared, then I looked down to realize part of my pants were undone and flapping around. A relatively embarrassing event. somehow I still walked away buttoned them up and dove into something else I positively can't remember. I love being numb.
At another point in the evening, the attending guests assembled what they called a "spank tunnel" where they all lined up and spread their legs so I might crawl through them the way I would crawl through a tunnel. They'd all get a chance to slap my ass one by one. It was fun and slightly erotic=more fun. I almost made it to the end, the third to last person put all of hell's fury behind the crack of his hand. The contact was hot, rapid and lingering, I slithered out from the human tunnel aware of the fact that I was on all fours, possibly placing emphasis on the shape in my natural strive to appear picturesque. I slid onto my feet and rubbed my ass in front of everyone. I don't remember what followed immediately after that.
Texting all night, we had been, this new character and I. Texting the night before. We made plans, he said he'd come. Food poisoning? I hope this isn't the second face, peering already. The next day quickly enough base was touched. And here I am, 24 hours later. He's amazing. He's gorgeous. He's just enough to keep my eyes following him. We jammed together on African drums. We ate weed cookies and smoked bowls and joints and saw Coraline, which was amazing and made my chest beam. Especially while on cookies. We held hands. we touched. We fucked, and were like perfectly rhythmic machines. I find it delicious, how it hurts to sit today. How perfectly, and I mean perfectly unfortunate to never really know about these things. Life is such a dismal entertainer. I love how she fails to show her true colors, until the very last minute. 6 shots of scotch at bedtime.
I lost one of the Greats this week. Funny story, I didn't even see it coming. I'll miss him forever. He changed my fucking life. He'll never trust me again. I'll probably never see him again. I can't believe I caused this death-like event to take place in my life. God, I will always fucking love him. But I guess none of that matters now.
I cut my fucking hair. For a couple of days shy of a week, I had been putting scissors to my head every day. I'd begin to feel anxious. I looked the way I had always looked. I looked plain. I looked normal. The shimmer wasn't strong enough. So I kept cutting. Every fucking day. Until I didn't look like me to myself anymore. maybe a little better. On the outside, that's what she says.
I'm 25 now. I wanted the whole goddamn week to be a blur. well, well, well.
I went to a show of Daniel's. Three bands played. He had been nicer to me that evening than he had been in a long time. Now that we're not fucking anymore, and the awkward stage had passed, we are back to friendship. Thank God. His band Asylum played first. It was great, enjoyable. It had a very free feeling to it, though at times as the wielder of the percussion element of the music, Daniel would maneuver the beat, grasping hold of it and taking it elsewhere. I'm glad I got to taste him when I did. I'm glad there are no more lingering curiosities. I'm glad the torture is over. I spoke to greg for awhile. That was fun, but he's Eleanore's (my roommate's) marked territory. Not that I was interested to begin with. The last band was the best. Modern hair metal it seemed to me. Nu metal? I suppose. Meh. 3 out of the 4 men in the band had long, wavy locks they'd whip around to the beat of the music. It was slightly feminine, but not really. Over-dramatic. Almost a theatrical element. Thus sexy. The front man was slender like me, with long dark brown hair. The way he clutched and motioned with his microphone was so phallic in nature. I couldn't help but stare him down and laugh to myself. Mid second pitcher of PBR my bubbling conversation with familiars grew tired, though my eyes were still of gloss. Daniel's eyes lingered on me a time or two too often. And things he said under his breath hinted at his trouble obsession. We're all the same, I'm sure. This block of 20somethings is like a block of cement.
Cash is runnin low these days. 'tis a shame I may have to put my pink secret on an iron pole. For no more than 30 days of my life.
My birthday party was dope. I was completely fucked on vodka and redbull from about 40 minutes into the party, till I passed out 3 hours later on someone's bed. I think I made out with a GodsGirls' boyfriend. oops. I vaguely remember ending up in the bathroom w him alone. making eyes at him. Asking him if he was still with the tattooed girl. Then suddenly him kissing me while I sat surrounded by a heap of coats in the coat room. I bit his lips, and wondered what the fuck he was doing kissing me. I tasted his mouth, his lips, his tongue. I bit him again. He pulled away smiled at me and walked away. What the fuck. Good kisser though. I hear the girl is with him, but still does fetish services. I guess I can't feel so bad then.
I think I recall running out of the bathroom, with my hot pink pants half done, jumping to gyrate in front of one the boys there who I'd demanded a dance from earlier in the evening. One of the familiars, I consider him. He looked a little scared, then I looked down to realize part of my pants were undone and flapping around. A relatively embarrassing event. somehow I still walked away buttoned them up and dove into something else I positively can't remember. I love being numb.
At another point in the evening, the attending guests assembled what they called a "spank tunnel" where they all lined up and spread their legs so I might crawl through them the way I would crawl through a tunnel. They'd all get a chance to slap my ass one by one. It was fun and slightly erotic=more fun. I almost made it to the end, the third to last person put all of hell's fury behind the crack of his hand. The contact was hot, rapid and lingering, I slithered out from the human tunnel aware of the fact that I was on all fours, possibly placing emphasis on the shape in my natural strive to appear picturesque. I slid onto my feet and rubbed my ass in front of everyone. I don't remember what followed immediately after that.
Texting all night, we had been, this new character and I. Texting the night before. We made plans, he said he'd come. Food poisoning? I hope this isn't the second face, peering already. The next day quickly enough base was touched. And here I am, 24 hours later. He's amazing. He's gorgeous. He's just enough to keep my eyes following him. We jammed together on African drums. We ate weed cookies and smoked bowls and joints and saw Coraline, which was amazing and made my chest beam. Especially while on cookies. We held hands. we touched. We fucked, and were like perfectly rhythmic machines. I find it delicious, how it hurts to sit today. How perfectly, and I mean perfectly unfortunate to never really know about these things. Life is such a dismal entertainer. I love how she fails to show her true colors, until the very last minute. 6 shots of scotch at bedtime.
I lost one of the Greats this week. Funny story, I didn't even see it coming. I'll miss him forever. He changed my fucking life. He'll never trust me again. I'll probably never see him again. I can't believe I caused this death-like event to take place in my life. God, I will always fucking love him. But I guess none of that matters now.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
Glad you enjoyed your birthday, sweetness.