"the body stays and then the body moves on, and i'd reallyrathernot dwell on when yours willbe gone"
i don't want to take a shower. i've refused to since early sunday morning, post-Inferknow-Fire-Fall, but pre-mid-morning-through-late-afternoon-bed-fest. because who knows? who knows how long it will be till i smell like this again?
and, would it have been impolite of me to whisper "i love you" while getting the cheap rhinestone bindi magically fucked off my forehead in a dank, dark tent within 15 minutes of meeting up with my emo-skater-artist-hippie-dude-i-met-at-the-temple-de-la-electronica-at-earthdance who had just driven all the way up from san francisco to find me in the middle of this whacked-out rave in the north woods so he could begin fucking the holy jesus right outta me shortly after midnight when the sculpture burned red hot sparks flying to wet stars?
actually, i couldn't have said anything of the sort because i had been completely reduced to a nonverbal level. and i remember thinking this is exactly how my baby must feel: sounds come out and sounds come in, but none of it means a thing so all you can do is coo. and not because i was on any drugs. (well, other than whiskey, weed and nicotine- but those are a given.)
as i said to mr. victorious (yes. seriously his last name. i didn't have to make that one up. and mr. victorious was. about five or six times in a 12-hour window.) as i was saying: "you can say anything to me right now and all i can say is yes."
(because you haven't really been fucked till you've been fucked by a capoeira-martial-artist-five-years-your-junior. flippin' and trippin' and bouncin' and grabbin' and goin' for hours.)
"we can go back out and dance," he said, "or we could stay here because there're lots of fun things i can do to you in the tent."
(and that dirty birdie opened up the tent's fly door, and i swear to god there was a light shining in from across the way with people outside. he said it was part of "the show." and i really couldn't argue with him, nor did i want to, really, because, sssshhhhh!, i kinda liked the perviness of it all myself. and, because really, there's not much you can do when you're bare-naked with a head bobbing between your thighs.)
next morn, at home, i had to observe of my second pair of shredded undies: "well, i did kind of like those panties, but i like them better ripped off and laying on my bedroom floor."
although, during the last battle of my Victorious love fest, i almost screamed: "OUCH! STOP!" and wanted to remind him that, well, a fucking baby had came out of that place about seven months ago, and there was some major-trauma-stitches-near-death-ripped-open-emergency-surgery-stitched-back-up-again-action, and in those seven months, downtown has only had two visitors on less than half-a-dozen occasions, but that just seemed like way too much of an explanation when your ass is up in the air and your ankles are on someone's shoulders, so i just bit my lip and took It like the Tough Mama i am. because who knows? who knows how long till i almost scream: "OUCH! STOP!" again?
***
i think the thing we're never supposed to talk about- loneliness- i think mine might have been cured. for at least a little while. at least until my upper-inner-thigh-sex-muscles stop aching and go back to their normal state of disuse.
******
shout out
i need to find "friends" on here again.
it's just that previously i had been too lazy. and now i'm just too fucked out and tired. and, because, as always, my janky-ass pirated internet connex is just way too frickin' slow tonight.
so, if anyone is out there in cyberland reading this nonsense, and if you write dirty stories and/or lonely late night confessions, and you write them Fun, i would enjoy reading them very much.
thanks.