Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Shoney's makes me think about dying

and how it wouldn't be so bad after all. Somewhere in Virginia I stopped. I had been cruising through strip mall hell for hours. The sky looked like it was slashed and bleeding. And I was hungry and seriously (what the fuck was I thinking?!?) thought it would be "hilarious" to eat at a Shoney's. Anyone that can make King Crab legs taste nothing and evaporate on your tongue should be pumped full of lead.
And not a cute human being in sight. Just the saddest, fattest people in America had all congregated here to celebrate or just feed the hole in their hearts.
The wall paper was so bland I can't possibly describe what it looked like. It was just a hologram of nothingness. And the staff with the service smiles and ugly polyester humiliation outfits. I barfed King Crab legs under hideous fluorescent lights, that – after a brief stint in my stomach – looked like q-tips.
Now I am at a Best Western down the road and there's a crackhead couple fighting next door. I feel so sad suddenly.
It's probably just a chemical mess.
I'm gonna watch TV.

Over and out.

Monday, September 28, 2009

oh, i found this in my temporary bed yesterday morning

and i wish, wish fucking wish i could have been more excited about it. he was truly gorgeous, but alas, he was (a) he. chemically on another planet, but smooth pale skin stretching over bones so perfectly put together one almost had to start believing in god. he offered me some of his stuff. i don't think he knew what to make of me, but i don't think he cared.
we were at Santo's dancing our asses off. just me and him. don't really remember, but i think it was on the L-train from brooklyn we first started talking. he was giving some change to a gutterpunk on bedford ave and i told him what a waste.
i mean, gutterpunks can do their thing, i don't care. but i would never ever give them money. and I am not down with the dirty thing. in fact, there's hardly anything (except her) that I love more than soap, shampoo and bubble baths.

was on the guest list at Santo's. Darcy tended bar and she always hooks me up.

almost looks like

her. I am not sure that she wouldn't be totally pissed if I wrote her name out. But this is kind of what she looks like. Except hotter. Way hotter. I love the way her collarbones jut out and the way her shoulders are like wings. She's always ready for take-off.
Ever since she found out what was in my pants, she keeps giving me the silent treatment. But I am NOT giving up. The kiss, the caress. The soft-cornered make-out session in the way too brightly lit MaxFish on Ludlow St. We'd been drinking J├Ągermeister of all things.
I'm gonna chase her coast to coast.
I don't care if she thinks I am not a real woman. At least I am not some bisexual bitch that's gonna rip her a new asshole in her fucking heart.

I am off now. Into rolling hills and out onto wide-open roads that will take me