Shitty daze.

So I'm mid cycle of headaches at the moment, back to sleeping upright with ice packs on my head. I saw a film last night (Wolverine, don't bother) and half way through it I was writhing in my chair and sweating like a bitch. After the film I could hardly string a sentence together and had to breath like I was in labour. Awesome, and it didn't make my friend uncomfortable at all.

I have a work experience girl at my work at the moment, its the girl from "porcelain cock". Yeah. I know, funny right? Not funny at all. Its killing me. I know I talk about sex a fair bit, I understand how gross I am, but she's taken me to a whole new level. I asked her why she drank Vanilla Coke, the worst of all cokes. Her answer? "Because it tastes like coke with cum in it and I love the taste of cum. I especially love the taste of my own cum." Here's me pretending that I'm not instantly aroused. Not very well. To be cool and slightly edgy I say "I love eating pussy, love the taste" but she sees my attempt and raises me a trump, "I love sucking cock, I could suck cock all day. If I met a guy who wouldn't eat my pussy but would let me suck him off all the time, perfect". No joke. Well, i exaggerated a little, but not much. She said off of those things, just not in the one sentence. Whatever, what the fuck does it matter. She also told me about all the porn she owns. Likes a series called "Cum on my tattoo". She has tattoos. Visual image that. In a defensive maneuver, I put up all my walls and basically ignored her.

The worst thing is that after spending a day with her I realised that I quite like the girl from down the road, lets call her Kicky, I don't know why. Maybe because of her super long legs. You never know. So this morning I dropped in to see Kicky on my way to work, we had coffee, then she came to see me, twice. And it was nice and a few of my friends independently told me that they reckon she's totally into me and that I should do something about it. So I did, well, I tried, but it looks like she has decided to start liking this 43yr old rock pig. Which is awesome. Fan-fucking-tastic. So I was a prick to Porcelain (who I'm over) (even the novelty of trying to fuck the work experience girl is wearing thin) and got rejected by Kicky. And tonight, after my pre-arranged dinner with Kicky, in an effort to stay pain free, I will have to sleep sitting up, and it probably won't work like it didn't last night.

My life is so awesome right now. I considered jumping off a bridge, but I realised it wasn't high enough.

I'll end on a joke, because that one obviously wasn't funny enough.

Q: Whats messier than eating a mandarin?

A: Eating Amanda out.

and another

Q: What has smoking a cigarette and eating a woman out got in common?

A: The flavour get stronger the closer you get to the butt.

*cue applause, point to audience and whisper "It's all you", bow, curtains, lights*.

I am a lonely performer and when I go back to my dressing room there won't be any flowers and I will have to take my make up off in the mirror, all the while avoiding my own eyes.

Fin.

Uneaten meals and unfucked hookers.

So kiddilywinks, how the hell are we all today? It's rainy outside which is just perfect because I feel like laying my emotional smack down.
So here goes.
I sat across from her on the weekend and she told me one of the worst things that I had ever heard in my life. I couldn’t eat my meal and it was only through extreme self control did I not cry in front of her. I cried on the stupid tram though and at work and later at home as I tried to get ready for a party. I felt like I was in a movie being shot in slow motion and everyone around me was filmed at high speed. I cooked a beautiful steak and in my mouth it felt like putty, I ended up just cutting it into large chunks and swallowing them hole. Eat like a snake. I stared and I stared and I stared, at nothing. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t even notice how broken I looked.

I feel as pathetic now I as I did sitting across from her in my nice shirt. Out of place and out of time. Nothing to say, hardly anything to think. Only empty words and phrases to push across the table at her. We are not the kind of friends that hug but I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and contain her. I wanted her to beat my breast, tear my heart out, leave me cold and lonely, I wanted to feel these things so that she didn’t have to. If emotions were a fire I would wrap her in a blanket and cover her as I turned my back to the flames that sear me. I would wear a badge of scars so that she could come out as pink and as fresh as a new born.

This is pathetic of me. You know I never even met the guy and I doubt that I could even tell you his name. All I know is he made her happier than I’ve ever seen her and now makes her so sad that its putting me off my food.

On a lighter note, I seriously considering paying for sex. I'm thinking about taking the plunge. Me, a man who likes to experience everything at least once, has decided that perhaps there are some experiences still not experienced, that if I am indeed going to tick things off my "Done/Not done" list then I'd better start now. The list itself has about 7 items on it and i reckon about 4 of those could be taken care of all within the hooker incident. So it's primarily a sexual list. A menu for my voracious appetite. Price list included. I wonder what wine goes best with a ho's asshole. A cab sav, perhaps a pinot. I'd say the thing that goes best with a prostitute would be coke, ya-yo, Brazilian marching powder. Its like an adult version of apple pie and ice-cream (which i had the other night and was excellent but no where near as good as sex), these things just go you know? Peaches and cream, whores and toot, Smith st and meth. Somethings just belong together.

So I have this guy that comes around to my store and cleans my windows. He's boring. Like super boring. He'll be in here for anywhere up to TWO HOURS talking about himself. Then he talks customers out of buying things. WTF? I mean, seriously? Today he came in and he was talking about making a roast. He then proceeded to name every vegetable that could be roasted, but making sure that he paused between each name. Potato. Onion. Pumpkin. Carrot. Parsnip (that one was actually me because I didn't want him to get all the screen time. And he told me, "no one roasts parsnip"). Garlic. Squash. And on. And on. And on. I actually said to him, "You're not going to name all of them are you?" and he smiled, and kept naming. How many times do you have to walk off on somebody and start talking to someone else before they get the message? Maybe he will help me to lose weight. Follow me around with his stupid head leaking stupid noises that I stopped listening to ages ago. Stupid.

I am a caged beast and you will lose a finger.

You know boxers, those guys that go out and hit each other in front of crowds, you know, the sportsmen not the underwear, have you ever seen how before a fight they pace up and down and throw their shoulders, how they toss their heads and jump up and down, keep themselves primed and ready for the fight. Do they ever look like animals to you, did you ever see one and think that he was loose and that soon someone would come back and put him in his cage?

I feel like that now. I keep pacing up and down, my shoulders involuntarily hunch as if i am about to throw punches at invisible robots. I feel like i could put my fist through this monitor here in front of me and it wouldn't even phase me. I reckon i could tear the head of a lion if only to suck at its blood, i feel like i could take a man apart with my bare hands just for something to do. I feel like I want to have my knee in someones back and their arm in my hands and slowly, with the patience and inevitability of an iceberg, slowly twist it up and over their shoulder blades until i hear it crack. Treasure that moment where bone starts to splinter and when the screams are involuntary.

I am man with a few issues at the moment but none of them are mine. I am a holding tank for injustices served upon others. I am a fire hose of rage left unattended to flail everywhere, spraying hate all over everything, dousing it all with loathing. I am an animal in the dark, waiting, all my muscles tense as i prepare to leap upon you. My teeth will gouge your throat and my claws will rake your liver, i will howl at the moon and all my hair will bristle.

Apparently a friend of mine was raped a little while ago and she told me today that now she sees all penis' as weapons. From what i can gather, some men took advantage of her while she was drunk and you know, I have been too afraid to ask exactly what happened in case she actually tells me. I couldn't tell you why but it has made me so amazingly mad that even writing this i am resisting the urge to pick up the key board and smash it against the monitor. I have a thousand yard stare yet i can hardly see past my own fury. I am blind with it.

I remember having this "how did you lose your virginity?" conversation with a group of girls and two of them said that they didn't lose theirs, it was taken, and i remember thinking, "Geez, I wish i were dead". Doesn't make sense you say? Alright smartarse, you tell me the appropriate response.

Shitty day.

Today I am fucking tired and over it all. I feel like writing huge slabs of self obsessed pity me text, only i couldn't be bothered even with that. Today I am totally pissed off and completely frustrated. All I want is to eat and fuck and sleep and not actually have to talk to anyone while all of this is going on. All i do is serve attractive women with great bodies and its killing me. Right now i have two girls who could be twins in my store in increasing states of undress, they walk from change room to change room as freely as they would from their bathroom to bedroom. I am so goddamn happy i could kill myself. Ha ha, just kidding. I am much more the sort of person that will internalise all of his issues and then get a very sudden and extremely aggressive form of cancer that i will not even bother to fight so within a year it won't matter anyway.

Whew, awesome, I am so totally motivated to write something incredible, but this is not it. I have been trying to write a rape story for about 3 weeks now and, much like everything else, its killing me. I have the set up, i have the characters, but writing the act, wow, its not easy. I thought i had a really good reason for doing this but now it just seems trivial. I thought perhaps that i might get to really push myself into thinking or feeling in a certain way and that in turn would allow me to let some things go but all i'm finding is that i grit my teeth all the time and I now walk with clenched fists. Maybe i need to get into a fight.

I've been watching a lot of C.O.P.S. Meaning I've been watching a lot of white men brutalise a lot of black men. I am unsure how i feel about this. Sometimes its funny in a 'aw that crack-head is pathetic' kind of way but mostly its black men running from white men intent on brutalising them. It has its advantages ie i can run through the whole gamut of human emotions in half an hour but it has its disadvantages ie it makes me want go to America, get a gun, walk into a mall and start blasting. Ha ha, just kidding, I am much more the sort of person that goes on a 'ghetto tour' and has the pleasure of watching whichever particular female friend he is with at that moment get raped at gun point.

Oh for fucks sake.

a few things from a while ago

A friend of mine told me today that a man jumped from to his death from a roof opposite his office. My friend said that the mans head separated from his body and that his brains had spilled out. My friend said that the sound was the worst thing. I wanted him to describe it but he didn't. I wanted to ask him if it were wet or not, or maybe if it were a solid sound. He said that the man was silent the whole way down, that he didn't scream or yell, that the only indication they had was when someone saw him plummet past the window.
I wished that I were there to see it.

Recently I slept with a girl a few times. I kind of liked her but I knew from the start that she was gay, she told me that she had recently come from a relationship where she'd been living with another woman and it had left her a little emotionally scarred. I'm the kind of guy that will get his hopes up over nothing so of course i got my hopes up, no matter how fleeting the moment. I had all those little fantasies that you have, where I'd sweep her off her feet with my suave heterosexuality, she'd choose me as a man over women. I was reading the local lesbian magazine the other day and in it was a photo of her.
She looked beautiful and i wished that it were me in the photo, and not some other woman.

I had an 18 year old girl tell me that she was both a vaginal and anal virgin, that her ex-girlfriend had been a bit of a dom and that she had broken up with her because if she had remained with her she would have not remained a virgin much longer. I instantly see this as a challenge and pre-pair to plot her downfall. She shakes when she is around me and it is blatantly obvious that i make her nervous, but she volunteers this information anyway, and lets me in on this private, sexual information. I feel like a predator around her, like a wolf or a shark, circling. My teeth grow longer and this is the only time that i truly feel like I am a dangerous person.
I wish there were something else that made me feel this good.

Another version of a similar theme

Area stoner attempts quirky Onion style article, fails.

Area Stoner Stab Cock recently attempted to write a piece in the style of hit counter-culture publication, The Onion, on what he describes as a "philosophical journey, through the eyes of a stoner, but funny like in the Onion" but fell well short of his goal and in his own words "fucked it completely."
Cock later said of the incident, "I had this great idea where I'd write this article in the style of an Onion article, but when I got down to it and actually started to write it, I realized my idea was cliche' and hackneyed. When I sat down and started typing, I saw that I wasn't being funny at all and everything I wrote sounded forced and weird."
Although Cock's as yet unread article may have indeed had some credit, Cock himself admitted that he got bogged down in his own "hypothetical pseudo-intellectual bullshit," and that the piece remained unfinished because he "couldn't be bothered trying to think the way out of this cluster fuck of an idea."
As yet Cock has no plans to finish the piece, but says that he might one day, if a better, more thoroughly formed and thought out idea doesn't come through.

Apathy defeats bloggersphere, the laziest of all literary circles.

Melbourne, VIC. After several false starts, local blogger Stabface Punchcock, is about ready to concede defeat in the face of apathy. "I just don't think I care anymore, you know?" he rhetorically asked his 'audience', "It's not like people will care if I stop, or perhaps even notice" he blogged with obvious self pity. "Maybe this whole 'writer' thing was just a phase, something we all go through". Punchcock's blog took a turn for the boring on Tuesday when it was discovered that although Punchcock had experienced many events in the past few weeks, none of them were deemed exciting enough to relate to strangers. "I mean, Jesus, last week I learned how to make a salad. Not even my mum cared to hear about that one." When asked about Puchcocks salad, his mother could only groan and ask "God, is he still talking about that? It was a salad for Christs sake."
Whilst trying to explain his lack of enthusiasm Puchcock had this to say. "Sure I went to a party and there was that film I saw but you know, even I didn't want to go to that party and I knew the film was going to suck, so... you know, no point really." When asked to relate his favorite story, Punchcock was interrupted by a friend telling him that he'd read that before, on his blog. "I, uh, I guess I don't have any then." was his melancholic reply. When asked his motivation for his latest failed blog Punchcock suggested "Anger maybe? Frustration? Some sort of obvious sexual inadequacy? I mean, I'd love to say it was for the chicks but seriously, have you read this shit? It's like a misogynist manifesto. Christ, in most of it I come off sounding like a Nazi. I guess you could call it 'Mien Kampf-puter', yeah? Ok, don't then, whatever. Anyway, I think maybe all I've done is validate the theory that the Internet is only good for porn and stalking. Not that I've stalked" he said, whilst trying to surreptitiously close down his Facebook tab on his web-browser.

"I mean, it sounds like I'm being a bit harsh on myself but seriously? Who wants to read this shit? I don't even want to live this shit, let alone regurgitate a blander, more boring version of it for people with no teeth to hoover up." After expressing some vague feelings of pent up rage and frustration, Punchcock let out a big sigh and just stared at the keyboard for some time. He then typed a sentence, deleted it, only to type it again exactly how it was.

"Oh wait!" he cried, slapping his forehead, "There was that bike accident right outside my store today. But then the guy got right back up and rode off so he obviously wasn't injured or anything, which was kinda disappointing. I guess it was nothing really. Hmm."

When asked what literary devices he used to hook in readers, Punchcock could only reply, "I use colloquialisms like, 'you know', 'kinda', and, I, uh, I trail off a fair bit, that always seems to work to convey a lack of commitment, and not, as some think, talent. I also swear a lot and try and use confronting themes. Like pedophilia. Only now people think I'm a pedophile so that one hasn't really worked out so well..." As yet Punchcock has no other plans to even attempt to write another piece because, as his apathathetic ass put it, "It just sounds too much like hard work, you know?"



In other news, an Onion inspired article has failed to meet up to the high expectations hoped for by its author. "They were ridiculously high" the author explained, "Even I realised that".