So it’s cuffing season again, and HIE is gunning to make some changes in his approach to love. And also in his approach to his career and his free time. Basically a total overhaul. Except, I’ve been beaten down by the weight of so many failed attempts to make positive life changes that I don’t have much faith in them. Also, my library card stopped working mysteriously today (in the app), and the local branch was closed, despite having open hours on Mondays.
Conspiracy? Columbus Day?
Probably the first one, because as we all know, no one celebrates Columbus Day anymore, what with the bad rap expansionism/colonialism/genocide has gotten. Continue reading Buck Up, It’s Fall!
So, I’ve been digging through my old posts and realizing my life was much more interesting a couple years ago. There were crazy nights of rejection followed by monsoon-drenched sex, late-night outdoor blowjobs underneath the Verrazano, roof parties and stairwell sex, lots of fucking laughs, aaaandd…. a whole bunch of other shit. You get it.
Turns out I’ve lived a fucking lot. At least compared to some?
Who cares. What’s it got me? Maybe I’ll super duper SEO those stories and somehow unleash the power of Google, thereby harnessing millions of fresh, unjudging eyeballz, magically get recognized as a literary powermachine and have tons of fame tossed my way. All the fame. Anyway. I was listening to a lot of old Memphis early rock n roll recordings recently for a job and discovered this gem by Johnny Cash:
So, my suicidal, tattooed friend who loves anal sex and getting punched in the face (preferably during) recently had a date planned with a guy she’s referring to as “That Irish Guy.” The date was basically him coming over. That’s it. They were just going to have sex, and maybe order food. She complained to me that it didn’t sound very exciting or interesting, but she’d already basically consented, so she guessed she’d go through with it.
Another friend of mine (in London), who loves none of those things and gets squeamish at the word “vagina,” had a guy coming over to her houseboat to hang out. He pushed for a “no-sex” sleepover and she agreed. She texted me before he arrived, totally dejected and wishing she was having a regular date. Staring down the barrel of being with someone she hardly knows for a good 14 hours, and knowing that it would probably have to kick off with sex (even though they totally weren’t supposed to) had her incredibly down.
This type of thing is happening a lot lately and I think it’s really interesting how we (meaning, anecdotally speaking, the people around me who are dating, which I take as indication that it’s happening all over a LOT MORE frequently) are pre-arranging sex more and more often and getting less and less interested in actually seeing it through. Continue reading Meet Me Tomorrow, We’ll Be Fucking
So I’ve been thinking a lot about impotence lately. Totally because of several close calls and one bona fide occurrence. I’ve also been thinking about how the most popular post on this blog by far was my bitching about how the blow jobs have vanished. Gone, like the buffalo and the unicorns:
There really is no mystery about the unicorn myth, for what it’s worth. Skittish-yet-majestic mountain of muscle with one prominent, usually spiral-ridged, horn projecting from where its brain should be? Appears exclusively to virgins or innocent maids? Just STAAAAHP. We get it. Continue reading Some Things Take Time