(no subject)
I wish I could see what life is like the day after I die.
I guess a lot of people want that.
Will all my photography be forgotten on a harddrive somewhere? To rot away never seen or used or claimed by the person within the photo?
Yesterday I moved.
The situation is kind of weird. I guess I'll go ahead and blab it since nobody looks at this except for my original 2 anyways.
I bet Tony would still read/comment, but he's dead. I wish I didn't think about him everytime I get on LJ, but I suppose if I am on it so infrequently, it's inevitable.
Ah, Tony.
You were a good person and the first non-god fearing person I've ever known to die.
It makes a difference... somewhere. Maybe it's all that mind washing resurfacing to cause some sort of... feeling... knowing that an athetist has died. Maybe because you know he wants no solace given to those to think he's in a better place. A realist. I wonder.
OK- the living situation is like this.
I work with this awesome guy Charlie, who I haven't spoken to much because we never see each other, but one day I found out we were neighbors when he and his roommate were sitting at the bar next to me and my roommates. Charlie left and his roommate, Dennis, stayed. Insta-chemistry, or.. magnetism. That pull towards a person, for some reason. We spoke, my roomies left, we spoke more. I kind of didn't like him. He think he knows shit about you from talking to you for a little while.. and he's very controlling. I guess those things bother me because that's me. But to a lesser degree... or at least a different degree. So. We started talking about depression. We exchanged numbers and i went home and didn't think about him for 2 months until I went on this OKC date and there he was. Hanging out with the guy I was going on a date with.
The date was a bomb. Or. It was OK but I didn't like the guy. No chemistry.
But the next day I saw Dennis on OKC. I pulled out my phone and texted him. We hung out, both of us had seen each other on OKC that day. We hung, we chatted, he started talking about sexual stuff, you know. At the end of the night boys always bring up condoms.
Oh, I don't like to use them.
(Well, who the fuck does, but they're there for a reason.)
Then I say "I always use them, I have HPV."
As always, just spouting the truth.
Then, inevitably, "I really value our friendship...... blah blah blah...."
So, I say, OK. Bye!
Well, we hang out a few more times. Apparently we created a depression club that consists of just us. Bitching about life and the little intricacies of the madness of the world that most people can just deal without ever observing.
So, therein lies the chemistry. A percentage of offness in the brain is shared.
Which, apparently, I'm kinda hot for.
Not to mention just really fucking horny all the time in general.
Like I'm walking around starving, but not in my tummy, so it barely shows. The repercussions are all mental.
All my sex dreams have rejection in them.
So. Yeah.
Dennis and I were doing a depression club day and he asks me if I wanted to move in because his roomie just left.
It's cheaper, much cleaner, less people, CLEANER, with internet.
The only problem is the sexual tension. I felt like it wasn't just me. After much prodding I finally vocalized this.
Then. What. He still wants me to move in. And for us to move past it. But then he does things like hug me, for a a long time. Then he kisses me, despite me backing into the sofa as hard as I can. Then asks if I feel anything.
I lie.
Then I don't.
And say it's all just making me real fucking horny.
He asks if we go bang real quick will it get it out of the way.
Flabbergasted.
All I wanted to do was run. I was stupid horny.
This means something, "stupid horny."
It's when you're so overcome with lust that thought is barely possible at all.
Mouth slack, just on the edge of drooling. And the pulse, throb, hungry growling from selective parts of the anatomy.
I just want to dig my teeth in, pull hair, thrust.
But no, no, run, run, this is not a good situation.
So, I tell him I want to leave. But we were planning on going to a show soon so he follows me.
I go home and chug some vodka, bring some along, we go to the show.
It was awesome, great time, there was a guy there that not really but sort of rejected me last year. I got really drunk and danced too hard for my injuries.
Oh, yeah, I got into a bicycling accident.
(Doored by a delivery truck, it's OK, I hired a lawyer.)
Then we went back to my house to smoke some weed.
He made me uncomfortable earlier by trying to play with me with me on accordian, where I've no experience and I'm not really a musician, plus have basically no practice on that instrument.
So he saw me being really awkward and uncomfortable. Then we we got back to my place I picked up my uke and just kind of wailed on it for a bit, then he started to kiss me. Hard, deep.
He held me down, felt me up, moaned when I bit his lip.
And that's the kind of shit I want the most.
But the next day I sent him a text saying something like
I'll move in, but we'll never talk about last night again.
So far, so good. It's only Tuesday.
So, about the accident. I haven't been able to go back to work.
I'm really broke and worried I'm going to be canned, because I'm still hurting and my boss wants me back with NO restrictions. I don't think anybody understands that I'm poor.
Plus when pother people were injured she let them working in the small dog section for a while.
I just don't understand. I feel like I'm being run off.
I guess a lot of people want that.
Will all my photography be forgotten on a harddrive somewhere? To rot away never seen or used or claimed by the person within the photo?
Yesterday I moved.
The situation is kind of weird. I guess I'll go ahead and blab it since nobody looks at this except for my original 2 anyways.
I bet Tony would still read/comment, but he's dead. I wish I didn't think about him everytime I get on LJ, but I suppose if I am on it so infrequently, it's inevitable.
Ah, Tony.
You were a good person and the first non-god fearing person I've ever known to die.
It makes a difference... somewhere. Maybe it's all that mind washing resurfacing to cause some sort of... feeling... knowing that an athetist has died. Maybe because you know he wants no solace given to those to think he's in a better place. A realist. I wonder.
OK- the living situation is like this.
I work with this awesome guy Charlie, who I haven't spoken to much because we never see each other, but one day I found out we were neighbors when he and his roommate were sitting at the bar next to me and my roommates. Charlie left and his roommate, Dennis, stayed. Insta-chemistry, or.. magnetism. That pull towards a person, for some reason. We spoke, my roomies left, we spoke more. I kind of didn't like him. He think he knows shit about you from talking to you for a little while.. and he's very controlling. I guess those things bother me because that's me. But to a lesser degree... or at least a different degree. So. We started talking about depression. We exchanged numbers and i went home and didn't think about him for 2 months until I went on this OKC date and there he was. Hanging out with the guy I was going on a date with.
The date was a bomb. Or. It was OK but I didn't like the guy. No chemistry.
But the next day I saw Dennis on OKC. I pulled out my phone and texted him. We hung out, both of us had seen each other on OKC that day. We hung, we chatted, he started talking about sexual stuff, you know. At the end of the night boys always bring up condoms.
Oh, I don't like to use them.
(Well, who the fuck does, but they're there for a reason.)
Then I say "I always use them, I have HPV."
As always, just spouting the truth.
Then, inevitably, "I really value our friendship...... blah blah blah...."
So, I say, OK. Bye!
Well, we hang out a few more times. Apparently we created a depression club that consists of just us. Bitching about life and the little intricacies of the madness of the world that most people can just deal without ever observing.
So, therein lies the chemistry. A percentage of offness in the brain is shared.
Which, apparently, I'm kinda hot for.
Not to mention just really fucking horny all the time in general.
Like I'm walking around starving, but not in my tummy, so it barely shows. The repercussions are all mental.
All my sex dreams have rejection in them.
So. Yeah.
Dennis and I were doing a depression club day and he asks me if I wanted to move in because his roomie just left.
It's cheaper, much cleaner, less people, CLEANER, with internet.
The only problem is the sexual tension. I felt like it wasn't just me. After much prodding I finally vocalized this.
Then. What. He still wants me to move in. And for us to move past it. But then he does things like hug me, for a a long time. Then he kisses me, despite me backing into the sofa as hard as I can. Then asks if I feel anything.
I lie.
Then I don't.
And say it's all just making me real fucking horny.
He asks if we go bang real quick will it get it out of the way.
Flabbergasted.
All I wanted to do was run. I was stupid horny.
This means something, "stupid horny."
It's when you're so overcome with lust that thought is barely possible at all.
Mouth slack, just on the edge of drooling. And the pulse, throb, hungry growling from selective parts of the anatomy.
I just want to dig my teeth in, pull hair, thrust.
But no, no, run, run, this is not a good situation.
So, I tell him I want to leave. But we were planning on going to a show soon so he follows me.
I go home and chug some vodka, bring some along, we go to the show.
It was awesome, great time, there was a guy there that not really but sort of rejected me last year. I got really drunk and danced too hard for my injuries.
Oh, yeah, I got into a bicycling accident.
(Doored by a delivery truck, it's OK, I hired a lawyer.)
Then we went back to my house to smoke some weed.
He made me uncomfortable earlier by trying to play with me with me on accordian, where I've no experience and I'm not really a musician, plus have basically no practice on that instrument.
So he saw me being really awkward and uncomfortable. Then we we got back to my place I picked up my uke and just kind of wailed on it for a bit, then he started to kiss me. Hard, deep.
He held me down, felt me up, moaned when I bit his lip.
And that's the kind of shit I want the most.
But the next day I sent him a text saying something like
I'll move in, but we'll never talk about last night again.
So far, so good. It's only Tuesday.
So, about the accident. I haven't been able to go back to work.
I'm really broke and worried I'm going to be canned, because I'm still hurting and my boss wants me back with NO restrictions. I don't think anybody understands that I'm poor.
Plus when pother people were injured she let them working in the small dog section for a while.
I just don't understand. I feel like I'm being run off.