Why, hello, what's this here?
Wooo, its been a while since I've cracked open the livejournal and drank deep its rotten yolk.
Now I have this shit open and I don't even know what to put here. This journal used to be my very own special form of psychopuncture (a term I am coining just now.) Fresh with despair from the days' toil and heartaches I would throw myself onto my computer, where each insecurity was formed sharp and straight and long under the intense pressures of a global social netfuck, and then drove into my brain to probe for some part of me that could still feel anything. After hours of bashing my head into the keyboard, I would put the bong away and lay down for a few hours before the process would repeat.
Maybe that's why my last few keyboards stopped working...
there was an awful lot of blood built up in between the keys.
Was that why I stopped writing in livejournal? Maybe. I've kept up the habit in scattered journals, notebooks, and restaurant napkins. Why haven't I put it online? YOU'RE NOT PAYING ME ENOUGH. No, that's not it.
YOU'RE NOT PAYING ME AT ALL.
The buzz is gone and I've realized what has been going on. Put your pants on and go, I'll mail you your bra.
The clicking sound you here after you shut the door will be me locking it.
I banged a virgin for the first time a few weeks ago. I will never understand the allure or desire men have for these pristine specimens. It was like fucking a closed fist. On top of the less than ideal conditions and heavy mosquito presence, she has ADHD. I know some people like to talk during sex, and that's cool. Dirty rough growling, whispered sweet nothings, muffled gags, all of this is usual fare. I've never had a girl try and engage me in a discussion about Spanish while I was trying to wedge my way into her before. The idle banter got so bad that I almost had to brick 'n' dick her. I relented after an hour when I saw the time and realized that my place at the bar was growing dusty. All attempts at her arousal were failing anyway; if I am to grow desperate enough to try again I may employ a Laffro wig and a bell to keep her attention. Ah, maybe I'll just rub it out instead.
Now I have this shit open and I don't even know what to put here. This journal used to be my very own special form of psychopuncture (a term I am coining just now.) Fresh with despair from the days' toil and heartaches I would throw myself onto my computer, where each insecurity was formed sharp and straight and long under the intense pressures of a global social netfuck, and then drove into my brain to probe for some part of me that could still feel anything. After hours of bashing my head into the keyboard, I would put the bong away and lay down for a few hours before the process would repeat.
Maybe that's why my last few keyboards stopped working...
there was an awful lot of blood built up in between the keys.
Was that why I stopped writing in livejournal? Maybe. I've kept up the habit in scattered journals, notebooks, and restaurant napkins. Why haven't I put it online? YOU'RE NOT PAYING ME ENOUGH. No, that's not it.
YOU'RE NOT PAYING ME AT ALL.
The buzz is gone and I've realized what has been going on. Put your pants on and go, I'll mail you your bra.
The clicking sound you here after you shut the door will be me locking it.
I banged a virgin for the first time a few weeks ago. I will never understand the allure or desire men have for these pristine specimens. It was like fucking a closed fist. On top of the less than ideal conditions and heavy mosquito presence, she has ADHD. I know some people like to talk during sex, and that's cool. Dirty rough growling, whispered sweet nothings, muffled gags, all of this is usual fare. I've never had a girl try and engage me in a discussion about Spanish while I was trying to wedge my way into her before. The idle banter got so bad that I almost had to brick 'n' dick her. I relented after an hour when I saw the time and realized that my place at the bar was growing dusty. All attempts at her arousal were failing anyway; if I am to grow desperate enough to try again I may employ a Laffro wig and a bell to keep her attention. Ah, maybe I'll just rub it out instead.