Pork Pies-(Antichrist)

Don't be a Turd Ferguson and take me to the movies. I'll pack the beers, you make the sandwiches, and don't forget a magazine for the train ride. If we split up, forget my number and call me in the morning.

Ten Dollar Withdrawal-(The Cove)

You may fondly remember the past due balance of that affair: It's been rolling around my thoughts for quite sometime and because of that man at the bank, I can recall it quite well. His Gallagher-esque appearance and dangly cross earring, was enough for me to remember that you loved to eat tuna before before bed. I can even remember how your hot breath escaped the whiskers of your handlebar moustache as we hit flesh to flesh. Thank you for that trip into the city. Thank you for that movie.

Bear

It may be true that we share this life, but I never expected to share each other's nightmares too. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I'd pass my fears of failure to you while you were asleep. I wonder if it was the way we slept? Perhaps our brains were too close to one another, perhaps we were too involved with one another to realize that we were not entirely fit to be adults. We were playing house--acting as if we were fit to play the role of a grown-up; throwing keys, and spending money on things we couldn't afford.

There was some sort of fabric that kept us together, but I can't exactly call it love, maybe it's called dependency. It held long enough for us to realize that just because our bodies were designed for each other, perhaps our minds were not the ones fit for living this kind of life.

Be Still Cody

This is really a day's game. It's like growing a beard. You have to take it one day at a time, otherwise you'll start thinking too far ahead and planning your beard's future. After a few days of this kind of thinking, you'll end up cutting it off. Then you'll regret it everyday afterward.

Take it as it comes.

Golden Slumbers

There is something lifeless about his eyes. I know they aren't open, but when they were they gave the impression that he was never actually present. How could he be? He just sits all day, in that same spot, watching the same television; wasting away. He does this everyday for hours on end.

I like to think that while he is physically wasting away in that leather coffin of his, he's really doing complicated mathematics, or mentally figuring out his taxes. I hope he's doing my taxes because I have no idea how to.

Short Story Sessions

It would have been okay if we had just finished that bottle of wine and said goodbye, but I insisted we dance to the Clash. I wanted it to look like that scene where Mark Ruffalo and Kirsten Dunst dance in their underwear, but I barely made it past her bedroom.

Toro!

If he doesn't call me by Christmas, then I'll know he doesn't love me. I can't call him. I won't. Even if I did want to I couldn't--I deleted his number the day he left. I'm lying about that. I have his number stored in my brain. In fact just yesterday I tried to scramble each digit in my head, but it was anything but a success.

I need to get serious about this; I have to resist the urge to call him. It's just hard seeing every cherub faced girl in town in the arms of some guy. When I go shopping for face soap at the mall, everyone has someone. I have this dog who just drools everywhere. I don't want a drooler. I want a lover. Someone who'll put his hands up my shirt when we're in bed. Or someone who'll insist that we have sex on the train home from the city. Not a sloppy dog who leaves his hair everywhere--no thank you.

The grocery store is by far the worse. Either every girl in the store is on the phone with their guy, asking whether they'd like a rotisserie chicken or a pizza, or they're playing the part of the doting couple and picking up detergent and other boring household items. I wonder what these couples do when they get home. Do they drop their bags at the door and have at it in the hallway or are they taking turns cooking dinner? Do they play scrabble or purr at one another when they're close? I don't know anything about these people's domestic lives. All I know is that I can't call and it's killing me like cancer.

Just a Glass of Wine

I'm not entirely sure what will come of this. If she sleeps over she might spend the night crying in my arms; we might play Scrabble or just fuck instead. It's sort of 50/25/5/10/5 chance with an additional five percent chance of us just screaming at one another.

I've been wrong before about these things. There was one time I was sure I was going to sleep with this girl so I brought a condom safely concealed in my wallet. I was eight and it stayed there for ten years.

But then again what do I know?

R.A.F

I'm not exactly sure how they met but it involved a leather bomber jacket and a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

His grandfather handed it down to him (the jacket, not the girl.) It was it's inaugural night out. She happened to be interested (the jacket).

They chitchatted, they took each other's photo and then it came time to say their goodbyes.

As it turns out he was never really good(the jacket) at saying goodbye so he kissed her on the cheek or was it the collar of her shirt? Who knows these days? Cheek, nape? They're both the same right?

Whatever.

Get YerYaYa's Out

You'd be amazed to see how far a pair of wool socks can get you. I mean I've got all kinds of socks, but wool socks are by far the most exceptional.

I can say this in full confidence because I wear only wool socks. You know the thick kind with the elastic around the ankles to ensure that they won't slip underneath the ball of your foot.
Those are the best. They last forever. The downside is that you're guaranteed to find an infinitesimal amount of dirt and lint latching on for dear life like those skates or whatever their called underneath the bellies of nurse sharks.

As a general rule of thumb: I tend to tiptoe around suspicious carpets and area rugs. And never by any means will you find me walking around my apartment with them on. I might step on cat vomit or spilled beer or something.

I take every precautionary step possible to ensure I get the most out of my wool socks. Lint's not my friend, neither is kitty's breakfast, and when something unfortunate does happen I just wear them over a new pair after I've hand washed them in the sink.

A man's got to have principles right?

So Let Me Tell You About My Boat

Travel Log-September Ninth, In the Year of our lord, Two Thousand & Nine

The minute I opened my mouth about soy milk, she said something to the effect of, "Would you just shut the fuck up already."

She sent me packing and I ended up on a train with this lady:

(Whatever you do don't ask her about weekly passes, she'll swallow you whole.)

Then I ended up in this bathroom in Trenton with signs that looked like this:

Now I'm installing peepholes in the men's room at Kohl's.