Just to set the record straight, now confirmed by different sources, the reality is that Isabel came home at 3A.M. I had heard her get up to go to the bathroom and deviated from any notion of time. Resolutely, I will still move as planned. Although I must admit that some of the sexual pungency I had experienced waned. The cat started meowing very late at night as he has ever since the dog was brought, and I lost my nerve, so I lifted with one arm the sofa and forced him to run for shelter in the kitchen. Then I opened the entrance door ajar, making sure no passer-bys or witnesses (like our neighbor, smoking on the building stairs that lead to the roof). I didn’t see anyone, so I pulled the door and left it wide open with a chair from the kitchen table. The cat was still in the kitchen, and when I charged he ran out of the apartment as intended. I promptly closed the door behind him but forgot to lock it properly as well on the top. That bothered me somehow but the relief of having rid of the cat, at least momentarily, was the ideal sedative to keep me in bed. Two days ago, on Tuesday, I woke up at the time I was supposed to be at work, because I had spent the night exhaustedly waking up on an hourly basis to scare either the dog or the cat. The dog responded to intimidation, and steadily, it has positioned himself in the Ikea chair after being instilled with a dose of fear after a couple of encounters with the feline. Being strict with animals only when is necessary, to ingrain some co inhabitant manners to domesticate an otherwise unruly beast.
The cat, on the other hand, started his offense much later in the night. It was harder to make him be quiet, and so on a second night of a previous mistake I decided to suffer the consequences of this incident. I left him outside without remorse, in the hopes that I could bring him back in when I left for work in the morning. But when I opened the door, I didn’t see the animal, and I searched for him in the stairs where our young neighbor smokes. However, the cat was nowhere to be found. At work, later on, I called to make sure no nosy neighbor had kept him safe through the night and then take him to us in the morning; I called home to see if there was any news about the cat. None, whatsoever. Good, I guess. I need to work and one pet is more than enough in a single bedroom apartment where two adults and an adolescent inhabit.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Sacrifices are in order
I just finished working out. Now, I’m off to the bank. I saw Paola online and asked her if she was going to spend New Year’s Eve in our aunt’s house. She said she would, inquiring why the question. She may think that I am avoiding her. The reality is so much more complex. In fact, I had seen her online Christmas Day, and she thanked me for my gift. But she also asked me if I had received her message on my cellphone. I hadn't at the time, but later in the day I saw it. I had seen her the day after Christmas, again, and didn't bring up the fact that I had read the message. I must have seemed as rude then. Subconciously, perhaps, but I don’t hold any grudges against her. Although, at times I still find myself dwelling in negative reminiscence of our past altercation. Well, I guess that is the order of the day. I do so, not out of failure to work things out in my mind; I do so purposefully, in an invigorated way, the same way with which I disguise myself as a stout Republican in certain encounters with Deborah online. I think politics divided us but the foundation to break us apart was already ingrained in several differences that had manifested themselves. Her gradual rejection, her multiple affairs (well, technically, they weren't affairs since we weren't in an actual relation) or promiscuity, none of that bothered me as much as she ever thought did. We saw each other rather unusually and I was officially in a relationship. Rooted deep beneath me was to add to my sense of masculinity the conquest of blond Spaniard. I handled the whole ordeal in such a careless way. I hated and pushed away the one that loved me and I loved the one that pushed me away. But I don’t remember being obsessed as I used to. I lost more than most than all, an ideal partnership, shelter, and even my job. Well, yeah, I do enjoy pissing her off with outbursts of radical American neo-conservatism. I don’t think they are all that radical. To me, it is more of a radical move to inflict the pain in such a cowardly way as the radical Muslims often do. They call such action “martyrdom-like”, and I see it as very cowardly. Their mentality is fanatic, and no doubt the government is somewhat emphatic in a lost cause, as historically that region has been conquered by so many in the past, and most of them are ideologically inept societies that aspire to replace oppressive monarchies by a theocracy when the separation between Church and State happened more than three centuries ago already. Of course, with George W. Bush in the White House the clock could be turned backwards.
Just a while ago, Isabel got home, desperate about the conditions on which she found the apartment. Now there’re four of us, and only one of her. The cat, the dog, are both males, as are Vangelis and I. Later, I heard from the bedroom Isabel explained to Vangelis without hearing him ask that yesterday night her friend didn’t show up to take her home as they had planned beforehand. She had to wait until everyone else got a ride until they brought her home. I said to her, “How about we go out dancing?”
Now the discussion is about who brings more to the house. In food, and things to be used, like detergents, toilet paper, tooth paste, and food in general, I do. I also pay the light and gas and phone bills, too, and I give a weekly amount. Next week, I’ll send more money to my sister in South America, the only responsibility I have outside this home. New Year’s Eve, I will be at my aunt’s, along with Isabel and Vangelis. We may leave earlier with the excuse of having a long journey home, so that we can take Vangelis home and then venture out. It would be fun, like two mad teenagers. Let’s burn a couple of cities down. Now, the bar scene hasn’t been checked, so that is a must in the upcoming week. Like I said, December is for other people in our lives. I will take plenty of beer to my aunt’s house on Friday. I will take Isabel to the movies nearby, and watch Bad Education. But before that, arrive at my aunt’s and cook for all. I want to be dependable, spend quality time with them before I go hiding for the winter months and spend the rest of the time too busily edifying myself. I will send money to my sister and mother in Colombia twice a month until I accumulate the amount I promised Milagros I would give: the equivalent of two semesters in college over there, close to two thousand dollars. That’s a lot more than I received from my unemployment benefits. See, like I said to her, first she must never cease her search for a job and second she must see that my help has limits because I need to pursuit dreams of my own. If I’m not happy, then those who depend on me will suffer as well. While I concede as true that I could continue to help her and still follow my path, but it will take away my full concentration. Sacrifices are in order.
Just a while ago, Isabel got home, desperate about the conditions on which she found the apartment. Now there’re four of us, and only one of her. The cat, the dog, are both males, as are Vangelis and I. Later, I heard from the bedroom Isabel explained to Vangelis without hearing him ask that yesterday night her friend didn’t show up to take her home as they had planned beforehand. She had to wait until everyone else got a ride until they brought her home. I said to her, “How about we go out dancing?”
Now the discussion is about who brings more to the house. In food, and things to be used, like detergents, toilet paper, tooth paste, and food in general, I do. I also pay the light and gas and phone bills, too, and I give a weekly amount. Next week, I’ll send more money to my sister in South America, the only responsibility I have outside this home. New Year’s Eve, I will be at my aunt’s, along with Isabel and Vangelis. We may leave earlier with the excuse of having a long journey home, so that we can take Vangelis home and then venture out. It would be fun, like two mad teenagers. Let’s burn a couple of cities down. Now, the bar scene hasn’t been checked, so that is a must in the upcoming week. Like I said, December is for other people in our lives. I will take plenty of beer to my aunt’s house on Friday. I will take Isabel to the movies nearby, and watch Bad Education. But before that, arrive at my aunt’s and cook for all. I want to be dependable, spend quality time with them before I go hiding for the winter months and spend the rest of the time too busily edifying myself. I will send money to my sister and mother in Colombia twice a month until I accumulate the amount I promised Milagros I would give: the equivalent of two semesters in college over there, close to two thousand dollars. That’s a lot more than I received from my unemployment benefits. See, like I said to her, first she must never cease her search for a job and second she must see that my help has limits because I need to pursuit dreams of my own. If I’m not happy, then those who depend on me will suffer as well. While I concede as true that I could continue to help her and still follow my path, but it will take away my full concentration. Sacrifices are in order.
On a leash
The dog and the cat seem to have their territorial thing going. I think they are curious about each other. But fear of one another is greater than coexistence and familiarity. The dog chases the cat away, and the cat, instead of hiding completely, safe from the dog, he taunts the canine, showing his face from under the sofa. The dog inspects, careful now, and not as uninhibited as he used do, in part, I suspect, because they have already found a moment or two alone, and the cat, defensively, probably scratched some fear into him. I like the discretion that the cat imparts, and detest the mild aggressiveness with which the dog relentlessly searches after the feline. There are certain traits in cats that belong to an accomplished superior being, his centered approach as if he was saying, “Mind your own business, just like I do.” We can’t make cats do tricks. In this reference, dogs win the day. They seem to be a lot more open, and willingly, to get your attention. The cat is usually looking for something, a caress, food, etc. Here too it depends on the submissive animal, in this instance the pet, to win over the affection and good disposition of his master. And here, too, we acknowledge that two means, or approaches, to one singular end, or purpose. Of course, I won’t deny that there is an allusion to the thin line that separates the cat from the dog, or vice versa, in their relationship. When we take dogs out for a walk, they react rather dramatically to encounters with their own, and mainly because they are taken tied to a leash in public, as I dream of having Isabel one day in private. If we were to let them loose, then things would be different. They’d generally stick to smelling each other in the exultance trigged by such magnanimous occasion. It is fear that binds us; freedom makes things so much easier.
Snoopy, the dog, and Isabel
Very few things I find amusing for long. Dave Chappell, in a few episodes, does stand to the test of time. Now, I promised to write about the dog, to a friend and to myself. The issue with Isabel also came up with Oscar, the other afternoon. Let's start with the dog.
I awoke one day and there was a dog in the house. The introspective cat, living under the sofa long before the dog came sniffing along, had now more reason to look after a life of seclusion and limited interactivity. It could almost bring us to tears. If it weren’t for the fact that the cat has no fear of the dog yet chooses to live under the sofa and compensates for all the time wasted hidden by meowing in a high, tenebrous pitch very late at nights. Last night, I had to punish both animals. First, Isabel told me that the animal will sleep with us because that is what the animal used to do with his previous owners. “Is that so?” I said. “Well, no. It won’t sleep in the bedroom and certainly not a dog.” Then, Isabel warned me, the animal would cry. And cry the canine did.
Did I forget to say that it is a beautiful small dog, vigorous, impetuous, and I believe pain dictates the way to behave? Hurting seldom is a tool to mold the beast to domesticity. The dog knows then who his master is, and assumes his passive condition as a pet. If it weren’t for this mechanism, this would have been Planet of the Dogs a very long time.
So the dog started barking and Isabel told me not to hurt him. Should I have a word with him instead? The impetuous animal must have been on Viagra or ecstasy, it jumped on Isabel’s leg, pumping away, woofing in a dominant pitch as if to force her steady and following her by jumping on two legs as Isabel moved around trying to escape that sexual assault. I exerted my authority fiercely immediately, and thus trained him by first putting some fear in him. Fear is a mechanism no living creature lives without, specially dogs and dolphins; how animals respond to pain could very well mean their survival and adaptation to evolve. Dolphins run away from pain; therefore, they are trained through treats and pleasure. Tomorrow (well, technically today), I’m off. Isabel went to a party in a restaurant with coworkers. I insisted she’d go, told her she’s always locked up inside the apartment. She got dressed all pretty in black, slim as only she is. I like her figure. She has the nicest ass and body wise doesn’t anything to envy most girls in their twenties. A girlfriend at work gave her the dog. Although I don’t recognize his breed, it appears of good lineage, and thus very expensive. It has the body of a hotdog, but more of a stentorian nature and a robust body. The face resembles a bit that of the cock spaniel. He’s dreamy, which is why his popularity over the indifferent, unbalanced, car-alarm sort of feline is quite understandable. I am almost falling asleep, it’s one thirty in the morning, and Isabel has been gone now for about an hour and a half.
Isabel came back really late at night from the party. She awoke me as she went to be. There was no time in the room, so I was eager to know what time it was. Certainly, it was already passed four in the morning. I went to the kitchen and saw it was actually a quarter to seven in the morning. She got home so late, I said to myself and went back to bed. She asked me to close the bathroom’s door due to our guests and I virulently responded why didn’t she do it herself. “I didn’t go to the bathroom” I said and inspected anyway to see if the bathroom door was closed. It was. So, I went to bed and couldn’t sleep for a while. I felt exquisite, somehow. I thought beyond jealousy and the things that this could represent for our somewhat diminished sexual flame. I thought about asking her softly and slip beneath her pagan legs, get closer, as I was aroused. We have made love in the past and talk dirty to each other with potential scenarios in which a third could join us. I think many couples do, and still more would wish to do. We have exploded vociferously in orgasms imagining us with another. Our personal history has a present because we solved many arguments through sex, in fact. Tension and stress of daily lives make problems appear bigger at times than they actually are.
Emotions tend to be exaggerated, as I have said many times to my dear friend Jorge. We don’t simply say we are hungry; instead, declaim we are starving; we fall in and out of love so foolishly and then wonder how is it we got where we are. Reason had very little to do with the way we dealt with our lives. Anyone can rationalize anything; a killer could argue his motivation as valid, and if we really listen, we could find some mad sense. The reason could be about passion, vengeance, repressed anger, fear. The same mechanisms are at play in a jury composed of human beings when deciding the fate of such a killer. Yes, we have killing instincts, but they have different reasons: they do it because it is their civic duty. Now, if I were to be asked which reason seems to me more essential, I’d say you missed my point. Different reasons that will lead to the same result aren’t necessary; we need no reason, only vision and a tenacious grit to lead the course. Reasons are what critics look for; there should be criterions about critics’ criticisms. Now back to the nature of my argument: we need not argue, just continuously pursuit our aims. Making time for leisure, prepare mentally for the road ahead. So whenever old archetypes loom in the horizon, we buy a bottle of wine, something good to smoke on the side, play semi-loud music, and simply indulge. Our rainy afternoons are memorable feasts, I think that we expect nothing of days like these, and subconsciously enjoy the ones marked by the calendar as our birthday (every once in a while it’s our birthday), the start of summer, the changing of hours, the thirty-first of December, the start of spring signaled by the fallen leaves. Even if it’s for a half hour, we celebrate; I am content with this. A walk alone to do some chores is a delight. Now that I have a dog, I could talk to those pretty strangers that walk their canines around the block.
So, yes, we did talk about having a three-some. We even have talked to a complete stranger on the phone from California, and talk dirty to her as she came to orgasm. In Paltalk, a site recommended to me by Oscar, a friend of mine, once we let a group of strangers see us making love. I have written extensively lately on this log, and I have made comments that make me seem a bit abstract and metaphysical. I think most of you, with the exception of some full professors, would agree. Nonetheless, I am a very sexual creature. Undoubtedly, there are many annexes to this carnal story. We settled old scores of infidelities while having sex, penetrating her in the same position as I had penetrated the one I cheated with. I’d tell her what we did and said, and how we did, and sometimes make up a detail or two to make her soil herself, taking the part of the proverbial whore that in ecstatic frenzy muses in pleasure with what had caused her so much pain. Once we tried seducing a goofy-good looking friend of her ex husband into playing with us as we poured drinks, listened to great varied music and smoked pot. But the guy cowered away. When I go out, she always awakes as soon as I open the door. Or she lies in bed bitterly, awaiting until I finish taking a bath, brushing my teeth and changing into something more comfortable, and once I slide underneath the sheets, breaks the silence with a sharp, out of place, tone of voice: “May I ask where you were?” Very few times, things escalate beyond that. I keep quiet and bring her down by baby-talking her back to sleep. She falls asleep before long.
But she has never come this late before. Not while we were together, anyway, I remember thinking lavishly in bed, trying not to make a noise that would have given me away. I closed my eyes, languidly dreaming of taking her out to dance this weekend. Or even tomorrow night. It doesn’t matter if it’s New Year’s Eve on Friday. At this stage, we have to be more open in our relationship, give each other space to create and redefine ourselves once more. I am not an insecure adolescent anymore; I don’t remember the last time I felt jealous over her. She has been splendid to me, I thought to myself. I’ve done it so many times to her just because of personal vanity, I didn’t leave her. That’s a woman’s job. If she doesn’t want me, I’ll start my life anew, like I have in the past. I will in time move on my own, in not much of a distant future. I feel a warm, cozy, and at times deferential towards, feelings that grow out of habit and tenderness. She is a loyal, good-natured animal, and I am proud of her. I shall reinvent our love once again. There probably won’t be any thirds, and who knows? But at least we will have more adventures of this sort. I shall take her out very soon and see how we respond to things in the open. We haven’t gone out to dance in such a long time. In the end, it has the potential of either destroying us or liberating us, binding each other still tighter. None of these two prospects seems so terrifying to me. On the other hand, I just don’t see much use for jealousy. That was such a childish pretense.
I awoke one day and there was a dog in the house. The introspective cat, living under the sofa long before the dog came sniffing along, had now more reason to look after a life of seclusion and limited interactivity. It could almost bring us to tears. If it weren’t for the fact that the cat has no fear of the dog yet chooses to live under the sofa and compensates for all the time wasted hidden by meowing in a high, tenebrous pitch very late at nights. Last night, I had to punish both animals. First, Isabel told me that the animal will sleep with us because that is what the animal used to do with his previous owners. “Is that so?” I said. “Well, no. It won’t sleep in the bedroom and certainly not a dog.” Then, Isabel warned me, the animal would cry. And cry the canine did.
Did I forget to say that it is a beautiful small dog, vigorous, impetuous, and I believe pain dictates the way to behave? Hurting seldom is a tool to mold the beast to domesticity. The dog knows then who his master is, and assumes his passive condition as a pet. If it weren’t for this mechanism, this would have been Planet of the Dogs a very long time.
So the dog started barking and Isabel told me not to hurt him. Should I have a word with him instead? The impetuous animal must have been on Viagra or ecstasy, it jumped on Isabel’s leg, pumping away, woofing in a dominant pitch as if to force her steady and following her by jumping on two legs as Isabel moved around trying to escape that sexual assault. I exerted my authority fiercely immediately, and thus trained him by first putting some fear in him. Fear is a mechanism no living creature lives without, specially dogs and dolphins; how animals respond to pain could very well mean their survival and adaptation to evolve. Dolphins run away from pain; therefore, they are trained through treats and pleasure. Tomorrow (well, technically today), I’m off. Isabel went to a party in a restaurant with coworkers. I insisted she’d go, told her she’s always locked up inside the apartment. She got dressed all pretty in black, slim as only she is. I like her figure. She has the nicest ass and body wise doesn’t anything to envy most girls in their twenties. A girlfriend at work gave her the dog. Although I don’t recognize his breed, it appears of good lineage, and thus very expensive. It has the body of a hotdog, but more of a stentorian nature and a robust body. The face resembles a bit that of the cock spaniel. He’s dreamy, which is why his popularity over the indifferent, unbalanced, car-alarm sort of feline is quite understandable. I am almost falling asleep, it’s one thirty in the morning, and Isabel has been gone now for about an hour and a half.
Isabel came back really late at night from the party. She awoke me as she went to be. There was no time in the room, so I was eager to know what time it was. Certainly, it was already passed four in the morning. I went to the kitchen and saw it was actually a quarter to seven in the morning. She got home so late, I said to myself and went back to bed. She asked me to close the bathroom’s door due to our guests and I virulently responded why didn’t she do it herself. “I didn’t go to the bathroom” I said and inspected anyway to see if the bathroom door was closed. It was. So, I went to bed and couldn’t sleep for a while. I felt exquisite, somehow. I thought beyond jealousy and the things that this could represent for our somewhat diminished sexual flame. I thought about asking her softly and slip beneath her pagan legs, get closer, as I was aroused. We have made love in the past and talk dirty to each other with potential scenarios in which a third could join us. I think many couples do, and still more would wish to do. We have exploded vociferously in orgasms imagining us with another. Our personal history has a present because we solved many arguments through sex, in fact. Tension and stress of daily lives make problems appear bigger at times than they actually are.
Emotions tend to be exaggerated, as I have said many times to my dear friend Jorge. We don’t simply say we are hungry; instead, declaim we are starving; we fall in and out of love so foolishly and then wonder how is it we got where we are. Reason had very little to do with the way we dealt with our lives. Anyone can rationalize anything; a killer could argue his motivation as valid, and if we really listen, we could find some mad sense. The reason could be about passion, vengeance, repressed anger, fear. The same mechanisms are at play in a jury composed of human beings when deciding the fate of such a killer. Yes, we have killing instincts, but they have different reasons: they do it because it is their civic duty. Now, if I were to be asked which reason seems to me more essential, I’d say you missed my point. Different reasons that will lead to the same result aren’t necessary; we need no reason, only vision and a tenacious grit to lead the course. Reasons are what critics look for; there should be criterions about critics’ criticisms. Now back to the nature of my argument: we need not argue, just continuously pursuit our aims. Making time for leisure, prepare mentally for the road ahead. So whenever old archetypes loom in the horizon, we buy a bottle of wine, something good to smoke on the side, play semi-loud music, and simply indulge. Our rainy afternoons are memorable feasts, I think that we expect nothing of days like these, and subconsciously enjoy the ones marked by the calendar as our birthday (every once in a while it’s our birthday), the start of summer, the changing of hours, the thirty-first of December, the start of spring signaled by the fallen leaves. Even if it’s for a half hour, we celebrate; I am content with this. A walk alone to do some chores is a delight. Now that I have a dog, I could talk to those pretty strangers that walk their canines around the block.
So, yes, we did talk about having a three-some. We even have talked to a complete stranger on the phone from California, and talk dirty to her as she came to orgasm. In Paltalk, a site recommended to me by Oscar, a friend of mine, once we let a group of strangers see us making love. I have written extensively lately on this log, and I have made comments that make me seem a bit abstract and metaphysical. I think most of you, with the exception of some full professors, would agree. Nonetheless, I am a very sexual creature. Undoubtedly, there are many annexes to this carnal story. We settled old scores of infidelities while having sex, penetrating her in the same position as I had penetrated the one I cheated with. I’d tell her what we did and said, and how we did, and sometimes make up a detail or two to make her soil herself, taking the part of the proverbial whore that in ecstatic frenzy muses in pleasure with what had caused her so much pain. Once we tried seducing a goofy-good looking friend of her ex husband into playing with us as we poured drinks, listened to great varied music and smoked pot. But the guy cowered away. When I go out, she always awakes as soon as I open the door. Or she lies in bed bitterly, awaiting until I finish taking a bath, brushing my teeth and changing into something more comfortable, and once I slide underneath the sheets, breaks the silence with a sharp, out of place, tone of voice: “May I ask where you were?” Very few times, things escalate beyond that. I keep quiet and bring her down by baby-talking her back to sleep. She falls asleep before long.
But she has never come this late before. Not while we were together, anyway, I remember thinking lavishly in bed, trying not to make a noise that would have given me away. I closed my eyes, languidly dreaming of taking her out to dance this weekend. Or even tomorrow night. It doesn’t matter if it’s New Year’s Eve on Friday. At this stage, we have to be more open in our relationship, give each other space to create and redefine ourselves once more. I am not an insecure adolescent anymore; I don’t remember the last time I felt jealous over her. She has been splendid to me, I thought to myself. I’ve done it so many times to her just because of personal vanity, I didn’t leave her. That’s a woman’s job. If she doesn’t want me, I’ll start my life anew, like I have in the past. I will in time move on my own, in not much of a distant future. I feel a warm, cozy, and at times deferential towards, feelings that grow out of habit and tenderness. She is a loyal, good-natured animal, and I am proud of her. I shall reinvent our love once again. There probably won’t be any thirds, and who knows? But at least we will have more adventures of this sort. I shall take her out very soon and see how we respond to things in the open. We haven’t gone out to dance in such a long time. In the end, it has the potential of either destroying us or liberating us, binding each other still tighter. None of these two prospects seems so terrifying to me. On the other hand, I just don’t see much use for jealousy. That was such a childish pretense.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
The Initial Idea
I thought of writing a story about a guy who complaints about his job, and sticks with it. Then goes home to his mother’s house and curses his luck for having such strict parents. But he kept living under the parental austerity throughout his twenties. The idea initially, previous to the former story, was to write whatever it occurred to me as I sat in front of the computer to make this log entry. Freedom is to gradually claim our independence in any existential arena, particularly when it comes to others. Allow the critics their take but pay them no mind, whatever flatters our vanity doesn’t necessarily nurture our vocation. Criticism is served cold; manuscripts and arts of great impact are warm-blooded creatures. But all good things to those who go in their quest patiently and exert some discretion in their passions with a freak-on release once in a while, ambitious but feasible immediate goals, short-term goals, long-term ones. The short-term ones are my favorite, those achievable in three to six months from now. Immediate ones are regarded as the most needful and easily acquired: buying a few pairs of brand-name socks in Century 21, getting a nice pair of black leather boots from Aldo, a great pair of jeans in Diesel, sending Glenda Black a gift certificate from Amazon.com, a dressing belt and white long-sleeve tee-shirt for work and if possible new pants and a suit to go along with, a compilation c.d. of that Spanish reggae-ton, get more sleep, write more. These are immediate and take a couple of weeks or less. Long-term ones, lasting two to five years, are such as fixing my credit, establish myself as a writer, pursue a career in literature or in the very least take courses of English grammar, and any other subjects that might improve my skills as a writer. I may stay married to Isabel for longer and help her with the kid, and I won’t discuss any of this with her because I’m not sure myself yet. So, why would I deliberately hurt her? If I have my doubts is because there is potential. With or without her, I should seek always to lead a fuller life. I should remain generous but not as much as I have been this December. I did say to myself this month belongs to others. I worked for the gifts I bought and made a whole bunch of people a bit happier for a moment. I sent money to my sister and mother in Colombia and to my father in Venezuela. I sent Deborah a gift certificate for fifteen dollars and she hasn’t thanked me; when I saw her online once again, I said “Feliz Navidad, mujer”, she replied in Spanish, “Same” and then went off line and then on again and I didn’t say a word. I felt the sword of indifference when you have not done anything other than extend a spontaneous courtesy. I decided to send her the gift certificate as I appeared online this morning. Besides, what are fifteen dollars? Still though, she was an ass about it. It tortured delightfully that she might think me in love with her. She should be such a child. I don’t think, however, this is the case. Showing gratitude is a generous trait. Our minds rationalize any behavior adapted: murderers have their reasons too. I set the record straight here and absolve myself. As usual, I had settled a score without recurring to question the subject. As if any sort of explanation was necessary or could in any way solve what is someone else’s problem. I had given her an hour of my labor. Well, at least now you have an idea of how much I earn. Not a whole lot but still enough, add all the overtime I pull weekly, Isabel’s earnings, not owning the mortgage of a house or the expenses of a vehicle, and top it off with living cheap in the Bronx.
My sister spoke to me through words today, thanked me for the Christmas present I gave her, told me about her plans of moving to Miami, and said, same as she did last year, she still owed me a gift. My cousin Evelyn tried me several times at my cell, which I left in the locker room inside a pocket in my jacket, and on her third try I was eating in the room for the second time that night. I called her back there but the call failed, and then tried her again later. I spoke to Erika, my other cousin, as well. They both thanked me and seemed excited by the gifts I got them. I said I’d be with them on New Year’s Eve. Evelyn said I should go before that. I doubt I will find time between labor and leisure. But I said I would to her. Who knows if I am another on Thursday night, and venture into Queens? I could sit down at the bar in Corona or the one next door to my cousin’s building Evelyn spoke to me of. I could go to Kana. This time around, I will put into work all the forces in order to be every day more independent, creative and prosperous. See, I didn’t see many of my gender involved in these issues, like Raymond at work, said that his wife took care of the shopping thing.
My sister spoke to me through words today, thanked me for the Christmas present I gave her, told me about her plans of moving to Miami, and said, same as she did last year, she still owed me a gift. My cousin Evelyn tried me several times at my cell, which I left in the locker room inside a pocket in my jacket, and on her third try I was eating in the room for the second time that night. I called her back there but the call failed, and then tried her again later. I spoke to Erika, my other cousin, as well. They both thanked me and seemed excited by the gifts I got them. I said I’d be with them on New Year’s Eve. Evelyn said I should go before that. I doubt I will find time between labor and leisure. But I said I would to her. Who knows if I am another on Thursday night, and venture into Queens? I could sit down at the bar in Corona or the one next door to my cousin’s building Evelyn spoke to me of. I could go to Kana. This time around, I will put into work all the forces in order to be every day more independent, creative and prosperous. See, I didn’t see many of my gender involved in these issues, like Raymond at work, said that his wife took care of the shopping thing.
I thought of writing a story about a guy who complaints about his job, and sticks with it. Then goes home to his mother’s house and curses his luck for having such strict parents. But he kept living under the parental austerity throughout his twenties. Actually, the idea initially, previous to the former story, was to write whatever it occurred to me as I sat in front of the computer to make this log entry. Freedom is to gradually claim our independence in any existential arena, particularly when it comes to others. Allow the critics their take but pay them no mind, whatever flatters our vanity doesn’t necessarily nurture our vocation. Criticism is served cold; manuscripts and arts of great impact are warm-blooded creatures. But all good things to those who go in their quest patiently and exert some discretion in their passions with a freak-on release once in a while, ambitious but feasible immediate goals, short-term goals, long-term ones. The short-term ones are my favorite, those achievable in three to six months from now. Immediate ones are regarded as the most needful and easily acquired: buying a few pairs of brand-name socks in Century 21, getting a nice pair of black leather boots from Aldo, a great pair of jeans in Diesel, sending Glenda Black a gift certificate from Amazon.com, a dressing belt and white long-sleeve tee-shirt for work and if possible new pants and a suit to go along with, a compilation c.d. of that Spanish reggae-ton, get more sleep, write more. These are immediate and take a couple of weeks or less. Long-term ones, lasting two to five years, are such as fixing my credit, establish myself as a writer, pursue a career in literature or in the very least take courses of English grammar, and any other subjects that might improve my skills as a writer. I may stay marry to her for longer and help her with the kid and I won’t discuss any of this with her because I’m not sure myself yet. So, why would I deliberately hurt her? If I have my doubts is because there is potential. With or without her, I should seek always to lead a fuller life. I should remain generous but not as much as I have been this December. I did say to myself this month belongs to others. I worked for the gifts I bought and made a whole bunch of people a bit happier for a moment. I sent money to my sister and mother in Colombia and to my father in Venezuela. I sent Deborah a gift certificate for fifteen dollars and she hasn’t thanked me; when I saw her online once again, I said “Feliz Navidad, mujer”, she replied in Spanish, “Same” and then went off line and then on again and I didn’t say a word. I felt the sword of indifference when you have not done anything other than extend a spontaneous courtesy. I decided to send her the gift certificate as I appeared online this morning. Besides, what are fifteen dollars? Still though, she was an ass about it. It tortured delightfully that she might think me in love with her. She should be such a child. I don’t think, however, this is the case. Showing gratitude is a generous trait. Our minds rationalize any behavior adapted: murderers have their reasons too. I set the record straight here and absolve myself. As usual, I had settled a score without recurring to question the subject. As if any sort of explanation was necessary or could in any way solve what is someone else’s problem. I had given her an hour of my labor. Well, at least now you have an idea of how much I earn. Not a whole lot but still enough, add all the overtime I pull weekly, Isabel’s earnings, not owning the mortgage of a house or the expenses of a vehicle, and top it off with living cheap in the Bronx.
My sister spoke to me through words today, thanked me for the Christmas present I gave her, told me about her plans of moving to Miami, and said, same as she did last year, she still owed me a gift. My cousin Evelyn tried me several times at my cell, which I left in the locker room inside a pocket in my jacket, and on her third try I was eating in the room for the second time that night. I called her back there but the call failed, and then tried her again later. I spoke to Erika, my other cousin, as well. They both thanked me and seemed excited by the gifts I got them. I said I’d be with them on New Year’s Eve. Evelyn said I should go before that. I doubt I will find time between labor and leisure. But I said I would to her. Who knows if I am another on Thursday night, and venture into Queens? I could sit down at the bar in Corona or the one next door to my cousin’s building Evelyn spoke to me of. I could go to Kana. This time around, I will put into work all the forces in order to be every day more independent, creative and prosperous. See, I didn’t see many of my gender involved in these issues, like Raymond at work, said that his wife took care of the shopping thing.
My sister spoke to me through words today, thanked me for the Christmas present I gave her, told me about her plans of moving to Miami, and said, same as she did last year, she still owed me a gift. My cousin Evelyn tried me several times at my cell, which I left in the locker room inside a pocket in my jacket, and on her third try I was eating in the room for the second time that night. I called her back there but the call failed, and then tried her again later. I spoke to Erika, my other cousin, as well. They both thanked me and seemed excited by the gifts I got them. I said I’d be with them on New Year’s Eve. Evelyn said I should go before that. I doubt I will find time between labor and leisure. But I said I would to her. Who knows if I am another on Thursday night, and venture into Queens? I could sit down at the bar in Corona or the one next door to my cousin’s building Evelyn spoke to me of. I could go to Kana. This time around, I will put into work all the forces in order to be every day more independent, creative and prosperous. See, I didn’t see many of my gender involved in these issues, like Raymond at work, said that his wife took care of the shopping thing.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
The gift of truth
When I first received the likelihood of publication with my poem “Perfection” by the people at International Library of Poetry, I joked to a friend of mine, Eda, about the decadence poetry must be undergoing when a poem like “Perfection” was accepted. She replied that I shouldn’t be so dismissive of my skills as a poet (which I have never fancy myself being but now I’m on the verge of obsessively pursuing), and that “Perfection” had its charm. I would have wanted an honest opinion from her since I value more truth than anything else. Nonetheless, I ended up convincing myself that, after all, I may be a regular poet but given the decadent material out there afforded me an ample edge over the competition. Well, after being accepted by three different editorial entities in this so-called poetical quest of mine, and being offered publication by all three, I thought that these were recognition prizes on their own and therefore it should be okay if I paid for that hard earned recognition. See, the very thing is that I paid for every copy I will receive and will keep them as testaments of my naivety.
I know better now. I stumbled upon an article on such poetry contests by NBC4 online. The address to it is www.windpub.com/literary.scams and it pretty much shattered the illusion I had of all my poems being accepted everywhere I turn them to. I didn’t spend much capital, by the way; I entered more than thirty poems of mine in poetry.com (which, by the way, is one of the listed in the scam) and all of them have been granted enough recognition to be published. Owning any of my poems, in any of their lavished book renditions, would cost me $49.95. I didn’t order any of them even though my ambition was great. I was a bit cautious about the whole ordeal from the very beginning. This realization won’t stop me from pursuing my literary dream. It would only embolden me. The irony of receiving this news on Christmas Day reassures me in a sort of superstitious sense that is not a bad sign after all. What better gift than truth is there?
I know better now. I stumbled upon an article on such poetry contests by NBC4 online. The address to it is www.windpub.com/literary.scams and it pretty much shattered the illusion I had of all my poems being accepted everywhere I turn them to. I didn’t spend much capital, by the way; I entered more than thirty poems of mine in poetry.com (which, by the way, is one of the listed in the scam) and all of them have been granted enough recognition to be published. Owning any of my poems, in any of their lavished book renditions, would cost me $49.95. I didn’t order any of them even though my ambition was great. I was a bit cautious about the whole ordeal from the very beginning. This realization won’t stop me from pursuing my literary dream. It would only embolden me. The irony of receiving this news on Christmas Day reassures me in a sort of superstitious sense that is not a bad sign after all. What better gift than truth is there?
Friday, December 24, 2004
The alarm
The car alarm coming outside my apartment on a fifth floor was crisp, monotonous, it awoke me enough to reason that in a little while probably it would shut automatically. The minutes passed, and the alarm persisted. It was not just an alarm now; it was my lack of sleep. In the wee hours of the nights, in that severely imparted frost of morning, when the sheets cling on and one rolls over to find certain comfort. We awake many times throughout the night; we just don’t remember all. Reminiscence is a selective process. But this one I shall remember. The ringing alarm metastasized onto those inner lives of quiet desperation, wondering for how long will I suffer the conditions I am living under. The stench of cat’s feces and urine, the bed I’m sleeping in, the women I’m laying next to, my declining health, and saw it as an opportunity. The major indicator of an unfulfilled life is denial. I won’t deny this: I am constantly striving. But I have yet to claim that I am found. It comes to my realization that I am surrounded by individuals who dwell in misery, and hence can only make others as miserable as themselves; others who attain a degree of impassiveness, settling with fewer thrills and maintaining stricter norms keep a bit saner. I have yet to see a completely satisfied soul. Most of them are half alive and all of them revealing their anxiety whether through social detachment or in spoken interaction.
Drastic measures will bring modest results. I keep trying to keep honest with myself. This very writing, in a way, chronicles such fascinating (the alarm has stopped now, literally) mutation.
Now, back to the source of misery: unfulfilled selves. Instead of claiming what is left of them for ourselves, many opt to conform (quiet desperation) to their conditions, others ignore it. Gradually, of course, that which is no longer growing rots. The need for action is transparently key. But scratching deeper now, there are many elements that compose the alchemy to obtain a healthier and fuller life. There are contradictions also, and more than one road to follow, another way of writing it. This is only because, well, life is complex. My method consists of informing myself first, then applying it for myself, and then taking a conclusion that may not always stand as an ultimate truth since I relentlessly search out new info, apply knowledge, and continue to learn. Wasn’t it Seneca the one who said that we had to learn to live life once again everyday? Lying there in that bed, I felt enslaved in serfdom, impoverished and sick by choice. Why not blame Seneca again for being a bit too harsh on myself at times. I bought gifts for the family but even that intention I inquisitively reflected on. Gifts contain a lot of energy and potential for bonding. I spent lavishly, and even though my economic muscle wasn’t strained, I did work it and I’m not overtly finished yet. Tomorrow, on Christmas’ eve, I will deliberately make many folks happy. The very notion of it faded away the bitterness of that God-given alarm, the events that transpired, the reason I sat in front of this computer to write this log. I guess I should stick to the guns of my story. Well, I did significantly enough today considering that it’s only 7:35 a.m., and I have been up for only three hours. I have taken away that horrendous alarm noise for the entire neighborhood. I insisted on reporting it to 311, and was transferred to 911, until the cops they finally showed up. A truck picked it up and took it. Yeah, there are a lot of things to be taken care of. Now that the physical noise is gone, the spirit can resume without further distractions the find job of how shut off other mental alarms. This car alarm has awoken in me more than just the resolution to shut it, and not remain sleeping in my laurels thinking that there is a magical automatic devise that will do it for me.
Drastic measures will bring modest results. I keep trying to keep honest with myself. This very writing, in a way, chronicles such fascinating (the alarm has stopped now, literally) mutation.
Now, back to the source of misery: unfulfilled selves. Instead of claiming what is left of them for ourselves, many opt to conform (quiet desperation) to their conditions, others ignore it. Gradually, of course, that which is no longer growing rots. The need for action is transparently key. But scratching deeper now, there are many elements that compose the alchemy to obtain a healthier and fuller life. There are contradictions also, and more than one road to follow, another way of writing it. This is only because, well, life is complex. My method consists of informing myself first, then applying it for myself, and then taking a conclusion that may not always stand as an ultimate truth since I relentlessly search out new info, apply knowledge, and continue to learn. Wasn’t it Seneca the one who said that we had to learn to live life once again everyday? Lying there in that bed, I felt enslaved in serfdom, impoverished and sick by choice. Why not blame Seneca again for being a bit too harsh on myself at times. I bought gifts for the family but even that intention I inquisitively reflected on. Gifts contain a lot of energy and potential for bonding. I spent lavishly, and even though my economic muscle wasn’t strained, I did work it and I’m not overtly finished yet. Tomorrow, on Christmas’ eve, I will deliberately make many folks happy. The very notion of it faded away the bitterness of that God-given alarm, the events that transpired, the reason I sat in front of this computer to write this log. I guess I should stick to the guns of my story. Well, I did significantly enough today considering that it’s only 7:35 a.m., and I have been up for only three hours. I have taken away that horrendous alarm noise for the entire neighborhood. I insisted on reporting it to 311, and was transferred to 911, until the cops they finally showed up. A truck picked it up and took it. Yeah, there are a lot of things to be taken care of. Now that the physical noise is gone, the spirit can resume without further distractions the find job of how shut off other mental alarms. This car alarm has awoken in me more than just the resolution to shut it, and not remain sleeping in my laurels thinking that there is a magical automatic devise that will do it for me.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Happiness in short
There’s a book about how to find happiness. I doubt it is that simple. See, happiness is not something you find. It is something you struggle for. The odds are that most of us will live happily is misleading. Achievers are not always happy. But they seem content about their goals and current standing. Rats do not aspire to be happy; they simply strive to survive. The question, though, still ponders: If we can’t find happiness, can we make it? If habits were clothes we use and once dirty throw in the laundry basket, and instead of lamenting our fate we went searching for it constantly, not dwelling for too long in our failures and focus, then things could finally be for the better. But let’s face it: complaining is easier than doing, and blaming is simpler than responsibility. Denial is one of the most powerful forces on earth.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
The cat
They brought Christie the cat to our apartment in a carton box which was placed on the kitchen floor. The startled animal, obviously frightened by the new surroundings, stood still like a statue as the previous owner removed the top side of the box. With disturb, the grown feline examined the place without claiming any territory. The man who brought him left promptly and I sat back at the computer before my time to go to work claimed my time of leisure in order to make some space so the new member of the family could get used to his new home. Half an hour later, I went to the kitchen to see how the animal was doing. It had disappeared. I looked for him all over but since I wasn’t able to find it, I thought maybe Vangelis, Isabel’s son, entered and left the apartment and had taken the animal with him, and I hadn’t noticed. I summoned him at once: he hadn’t even seen the cat. The hours passed, and the animal was no where to be found. I wasn’t so much as worried as I was puzzled. Isabel knew that I didn’t want a living creature in the house so naturally she could assume that I had gotten rid of it. But the door was locked and I looked outside the open window from this fifth floor, looked under the furniture, behind the washing machine. I called back home later from work to ask Vangelis to look again behind the washing machine. He said he had already. Nothing, as if the whole affair had been a dream. Isabel theorized the animal had escaped our premises during a brief instance locked in oblivion when one of us opened the door. It was a childish assumption; an occurrence of that magnitude would easily be forgotten or even slipped by. It is a large, adult cat, we’re talking about, not a baby hamster running loose all over. Unexplained circumstances always bring about the best of people’s imagination. Nonetheless, I had at hand a riddle I was in no mood to contemplate a solution for; as a matter of fact, I was somewhat secretly happy about the disappearance until Isabel started crying on the other end of the conversation. “I had brought him food” she gasped. Suddenly, I saw the salt of selfishness sprinkle over my easy-going consciousness, and I turned bland. I do away with regret and guilt and exert some meaningful benevolence. One warm, fuzzy, godly human benevolent feeling overwhelms me. I baby-talked her into not crying, and promised to buy her a cat of her own, not a second-hand Houdini-style, missing in the middle of no action excuse for a cat. “It was too regular a cat,” I consoled her. This happened while I was at work, and once I got home, the search was reinitiated. Nothing turned out.
A day passed by and the mystery still puzzled me. I thought of writing about it here, but for some strange reason I hadn’t. I did make a couple of entries since then but never mentioned it. Two days later, coming back from work, I opened the door and was shooed by Isabel with a smile. “The cat” she hushed giddily. I thought it had been recovered from the outdoors, but it appeared that the animal had never left home.
It came as gratuitous to us that the feline would develop a taste for hiding and hostility. His reclusive existence under the couch paralleled the time when no one knew of his whereabouts. Several fruitless attempts to extract him from his hiding nest proved frustrating. So, after a while, we became accustomed to his invisible presence in the household. All went back to normality for a few days. We lived as usual, working our days, enjoying together our late evenings with rented movies, music, anything to thin the blood. In the middle of night, as Isabel and I were watching the last scenes of rented dvd movie in our seven hundred watts progressive scan Panasonic Home Theater, the animal suddenly popped out of his hideout and reached out to us, submissive in its stretching posture, bowing risen head exposing its neck fully, carrousel movements, sliding his body underneath our caressing hands. I was astounded by the revelation that this miniscule tiger had made such a remarkable progress in personality, such a drastic change overnight. Maybe we can, too, go out for a walk on the path of our dreams more daringly than we have. If a cat can all of a sudden become familiar with the unknown, so spontaneously, I don’t see why we can’t.
A day passed by and the mystery still puzzled me. I thought of writing about it here, but for some strange reason I hadn’t. I did make a couple of entries since then but never mentioned it. Two days later, coming back from work, I opened the door and was shooed by Isabel with a smile. “The cat” she hushed giddily. I thought it had been recovered from the outdoors, but it appeared that the animal had never left home.
It came as gratuitous to us that the feline would develop a taste for hiding and hostility. His reclusive existence under the couch paralleled the time when no one knew of his whereabouts. Several fruitless attempts to extract him from his hiding nest proved frustrating. So, after a while, we became accustomed to his invisible presence in the household. All went back to normality for a few days. We lived as usual, working our days, enjoying together our late evenings with rented movies, music, anything to thin the blood. In the middle of night, as Isabel and I were watching the last scenes of rented dvd movie in our seven hundred watts progressive scan Panasonic Home Theater, the animal suddenly popped out of his hideout and reached out to us, submissive in its stretching posture, bowing risen head exposing its neck fully, carrousel movements, sliding his body underneath our caressing hands. I was astounded by the revelation that this miniscule tiger had made such a remarkable progress in personality, such a drastic change overnight. Maybe we can, too, go out for a walk on the path of our dreams more daringly than we have. If a cat can all of a sudden become familiar with the unknown, so spontaneously, I don’t see why we can’t.
Making progress
Today I received a letter announcing the eligibility of a poem I entered in a competition more than a month ago for the prize. It is the third of its type in less than nine months. I have entered randomly at different times and locations into four competitions. Three of them have given me results. I am still hopeful that the forth poem comes back to me, like the rest of them have, with pride. I may have committed a mistake in the entering process because I haven’t heard from my Mirror of Selves. Isn’t that curious? I focus vaguely on the one that didn’t come back to me, the one that is not to be published as every other (including the one mentioned) has by, for instance, poetry.com. I don’t fancy myself a great poet. Certainly, given my intelligence (that’s right), I am above average in poetry, just as I am in every single task I undertake. Well, that’s enough of me. The publisher is to honor me by, well, publishing me. This is not the second time I will be potentially published. It is the third. First, there was poetry.com, the International Library of Poets; secondly, the so-called Society of Famous Poets; and thirdly, this one, JMW publications or something. It’s great ego-massage. But what am I to do? Now you could make an engine search in yahoo or google, and find me listed as a poet. That’s not enough. I am currently immersed into several promising projects and I will choose one of them to be published. I have found books-on-demand sites not so far from what I have in mind in case I am taken lightly by traditional standards. A novel or a selection of poems or both. Whatever it is that feels more proper. Well, it might sound a bit pretentious and not-so-well thought out but I am at work, tired and thinking of going home. Besides, no one in their right mind is reading this now or eagerly waiting to read it later. So, I focus on a few uplifting ideas, carry them through to completion and then go back for some more. I am, well, achieving and it feels great to know that it is actually easy. We’ll see how things go.
No, I haven’t been paralyzed nor am I in a lethargic state once more. I have vigorously pursuit my idea of a better man: I have bought trendy presents for my family here in NY. I sent money to my biological father (a funny story behind this), and my sister, who has brought to my knowledge her trip to Venezuela. But if I put in paper all of the activities I engaged on during this time, I will come up short. I am, however, not an exceptional being. At least, not yet. But in time I will be far better than I am now. I crave independence and realization. But I don’t want to hurt the people involved in my life at this time. I have found a way to keep these ambivalent forces in balance. I work more and I have been more tolerant. Anxiety has receded sporadically. I do spend every waking moment sculpting landscapes, forging personal alliances to bring this inner show to the wild outdoors. I am not fighting with myself as most people may find themselves on occasions. I am making progress.
No, I haven’t been paralyzed nor am I in a lethargic state once more. I have vigorously pursuit my idea of a better man: I have bought trendy presents for my family here in NY. I sent money to my biological father (a funny story behind this), and my sister, who has brought to my knowledge her trip to Venezuela. But if I put in paper all of the activities I engaged on during this time, I will come up short. I am, however, not an exceptional being. At least, not yet. But in time I will be far better than I am now. I crave independence and realization. But I don’t want to hurt the people involved in my life at this time. I have found a way to keep these ambivalent forces in balance. I work more and I have been more tolerant. Anxiety has receded sporadically. I do spend every waking moment sculpting landscapes, forging personal alliances to bring this inner show to the wild outdoors. I am not fighting with myself as most people may find themselves on occasions. I am making progress.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Good night for now...
I worked a tenacious day. The accumulation of worked days without taking a day off has made me a bit more irascible. But by the end of tonight, anger burned through my veins. I am calmed now, listening to music, already bathed, in the dark, anxiety levels dropping. I thought it was possible to control your anger, explode in laughter, exercise some distance. How simple it seems to us now to light a match, tie our shoes, fully absorb the essence of this moment in engaged in activities that took years of our lives to master. The art of walking, the social ranks and hierarchies, the pursuit of excellence, the joy of leisure, reading these words. Almost everything in which we take part has been a mastered role; taking years like a seed breaking the ground underneath with its roots, defying gravity in its ascendence, proliferating into innsectivorous plants, branches, autumn leaves, and ripe fruits full of seed. Nature is only predistinated in its confabulation with life. We master our universal illusions yet still are prey to our passions. We could get better at anything except when it came to our emotions. I do believe we can master them as well as we dominate most aspects of our lives. It’s not to say that the experience of anger, attraction, rejection, etc, won’t affect us anymore. It only means we handle it more effectively and put it under control promptly with a conscious effort to which in time we’ll habituate to. We get better at anything we put our minds to. Now it’s time to go to sleep because tomorrow there is a long day ahead. I need some rest. There’ll be time for other witty arguments. Good night.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
In the end
I’ve worked since three and in a couple of hours I’ll be home, if everything goes as planned. I was handed a hefty list of security panels that were going off and required inspection. More than ninety-nine percent of the time it is due to construction taking place on that given location. The rest of the time it is safe to say that carelessness has taken place on that location. Nonetheless, safety is not taken lightly by our superiors, as it was gorgeously illustrated by my stunningly beautiful coworker a few months back on paper. Ah, Daniela. I remember seeing her and I often think that anywhere I may sleep tonight I will always be in the arms of a woman who allowed me in. I saw her today. She was, as usual, ravishing. That was my focus, and not one to be weighted in any romantic sense; I am way passed my prime on nativities. My approach is full of masculine traits, unaffected, seemingly in control, serene yet vigorous, crushing tenderness. I am gentlemanlike, but I don't suck up. We mate just like other animals do, and though our rituals are complex and frisky at times, however, we can’t never fully escape our nature. I haven’t become a cynic either; I could very easily be taken off guard and be left for a brief moment, wandering aimlessly in a unfathomable land that no caution could have avoided. Beauty is a high, and it often takes us for a ride without asking us for our permission. But then again, so does madness. Quite frankly, I understand little of these things although I am always curious and constantly seeking, I am found at times when my search ceases or something extraordinary suddenly takes shape and color before my eyes just when my curiosity was on a low. All of these contrasted similarities, all of these ambivalent causes are transitive in nature. Eons wasted in giving names, erecting infrastructures and casting shadows over all the wonders that surround our very us being here right now; these names, like the ones our parents or guardians chose us, tell little, if any, of the whole phenomena. I suspect with fatigue beside me now that the problem may partly lie in words being able to express so little. Even if I were to give a detailed account of a particular reminiscence or event through language, it's a wavering death amidst the torrent of light that lived. Science relies on language and yet language itself is limited. It appears that the experience seems so vast and intricate for this insignificant tool to absorb it. But at times it captures just that. Like a picture, no matter how good, can never translate movement, suddenly mutating into a lively interaction. We can imitate and we are getting far better at it. Perhaps in the end we will decipher all of these very complex happenings and figure how just why and what and from what and to where and for how long we are, were, and will endlessly be. Perhaps then all of the mirrored mirages that surround us will be broken into a million pieces. If we were to be at that moment of discovery and rediscovery, I think we will find that our resemblance will be to the image and likeness of ourselves. I think that the possibility of divinity will be before us in the shape and sound, the texture and taste we give. For now, we will settle for a good night sleep after a little bit of pot once home, the company of our loved ones, the hard earned money of our labor, the help we extend to those in need, the goals and liasure, and the hope for a better tomorrow.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Micellaneous
Fiction is hard work. I tend to write and publish this journal with ease, and already get feedback, communicate some formal thoughts and release myself at times. I chronicle the transcendence I am undertaking. I witness and engage in this phenomenon we call life. Whatever it is the fuck you want to call it. I see that the writer who thinks more of his audience’s response to his words often wears a mask at some level. It’s crucial to keep the reader in mind, not take a sudden avenue that happens to occupy our present minds, and keep a paced and well thought-out exposition of ideas. There are, of course, distractions around. Privacy seldom abounds. Of course, afternoons full of rain may sound too cliché, and yet they do exert their charm. Plenty of coffee, music aloud (Coldplay’s A Rush of Blood to the Head; Muse’s Origin of Symmetry; Maroon 5’s Songs about Jane, and many others along that sweet upbeat rock line descendent from Radiohead) people I know online (including nanoseconds ago my dear sister from Colombia), the whole apartment to yourself. I have written a list of goals that I want to achieve in the next six to nine months. I have spoken to my mother and sister in Colombia more regularly. I will have worked at least ten hours overtime so far this week. (By the way, I threw to the musical mix some Spanish songs from Buenavista Social Club, Bacilos, etc). Also, I sent a poem of mine to another contest online, and solicited information. I haven’t ventured out as I would have probably written favorably about it. But I have time to simply indulge. Actually, I make time for it. Monday mornings are dreaded by so many others but they are for now my only subterfuge of solitude. When I have time to be spent with whomever it is I can spend it with, and most of my favorite people is naturally entangled with their routines, I enjoy amply my own company. Sure, we take familiar routes, and find similar results.
Oscar says:
you should check it out, he's very good
Boris says:
You do know there was an australian anthropologist by the name of Elliot Smith.
Boris says:
Don't you?
Oscar says:
i gotta let you go for now, i have a meeting in 5 minutes, should be back in 30 mins. if you're still around
Boris says:
I am kind of inclined towards science than art.
Boris says:
Ok.
Boris says:
Later.
Oscar says:
boris
Boris says:
dime
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
oscar
Oscar says:
boris suena mas intelectual
Oscar says:
damian
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I know.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Boris Amar
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
is hell of a writer's name.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Thank you for your condescension.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Kidding!
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Mondays I love.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I wake up to an apartment all to myself.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I have a blast.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Coffee.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Lots of coffee.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Music.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Semi-loud music.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Writing.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I'm cooking words.
Oscar says:
take that message off, it's confusing'
Simply indulge says:
that's much better.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
this one i like best.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It's just not as hedonistic.
Oscar says:
it's not as long
Oscar says:
chatting with anybody in particular?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
No,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
writing that's all.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Actually, I make time for it. Mondays mornings are dreaded by so many others but they are for now my only subterfuge of solitude. When I have time to be spent with whomever it is I can spend it with, and most of my favorite people is naturally tied to their routines, I enjoy amply my own company
Oscar says:
so you like mondays
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I don't say that.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
careful now.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I say that WE make our happy TIME
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It could very well be on Monday.
Oscar says:
oh
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Listen to Muse's "Orgin of Symmetry", the song called "Feeling Good"
Oscar says:
you remember carolina?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yeah.
Oscar says:
you ever talked to her again?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I am not sure as to which Carolina you're reffering.
Oscar says:
the fat one
Oscar says:
really smart girl
Make time to simply indulge. says:
No.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
But I have met another Carolina.
Oscar says:
but you remember her
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She was the stunningly beauty queen with insecurities that I regarded as natural given her physical attributes.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Dating a guy twenty years older than her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She also liked to be dependent.
Oscar says:
who was this
Make time to simply indulge. says:
A Carolina surprisingly I met in Terra two years ago.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
A year ago, we ended up dating.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
When Isabel and I broke up
Make time to simply indulge. says:
When Isabel found me con una puertorricura que tenia complejo de fea
Make time to simply indulge. says:
rubia delgada nalgoncita de ojos azules
Oscar says:
y esa era carolina?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
no
Make time to simply indulge. says:
esa era kathelyn
Make time to simply indulge. says:
aunque ya conocia a carolina hace un año
Oscar says:
la de ojos azules
Make time to simply indulge. says:
kathelyn
Oscar says:
era kathelyn
Make time to simply indulge. says:
la de azules
Make time to simply indulge. says:
si
Make time to simply indulge. says:
puertoriqueña
Make time to simply indulge. says:
r
Oscar says:
continua'
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel took off work and hided in the bedroom.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I brought the puertorican home.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I had candles and wine.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
The way I saw it was it was cheaper than going to the movies.
Oscar says:
isabel was hiding in the bedroom
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yes.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
In the closet.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
In the bedroom.
Oscar says:
this is hysterical
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yes, quite so.
Oscar says:
continue
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I put music, I pour wine, I toss with intertwiching arms.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We are dancing and heart pounding stormed Isabel out of the bedroom.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Into the living room.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Do you think I said it all?
Oscar says:
una boricua y una dominicana en una escena de estas, you cant script it any better
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Not even close.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I am getting better.
Oscar says:
go on, this is too goog
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It's my metamorphosis.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Well,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel was beautifully dressed with make up and all.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I tried to cool her down.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It was impossible.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel threw panties I had from Kathelyn in her face
Oscar says:
you should have proposed a threesome
Oscar says:
wher did you have the apnties
Make time to simply indulge. says:
In my bag, the one I take to work.
Hidden in a little compartment within the bag.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
They were dirty.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I used to smell them at work hiding in the bathroom and write obsene text-messages to whom I called my beautiful whore.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Anyway.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel found them.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Beware of scourned women.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
To top it off, I ran behind Kathelyn.
Oscar says:
continue this is too good
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was barefooted and followed her two blocks walking on the burning two days old snow that had turned into that frozen slippery ice.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It was very cold out.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Not freezing. But cold.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I went back.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel was crying.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
There was a moment of pain in my heart when she broke down and like looking to a corner said as if talking to the walls,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"Yo no me merezco esto. Yo que lucho por tener algo mejor y que me he sacrificado por ti."
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She had told Kathelyn that she had bore my baby in her womb before having a miscarriage not more than three months ago as she rubbed the panties on her face
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was holding her back even then.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Anyway.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I also was horny.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We men tend to get this way.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Whenever women are emotional we get aroused.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yes?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I put shoes on and zigzagged her bittered words,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I put aside all her rencor.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
And closed the door behind her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was able to catch up with Kathelyn who lives only six downhill blocks apart.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I went inside the building she lives in.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She lit a cigarrette.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I convinced her to go for a walk.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
To get away.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She obliged.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
After everything that happened.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She left with me.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
If this isn't a testament to women's inclination towards fatality I don't know what is.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I had money.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We best of all the worst joints around. A restaurant with dark lights and loud music and we sat in the back, shrouded in shadows, and ordered a couple of drinks.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We left to a motel.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
All along I remember being glad that I had taken a little bit of pot I had left and placed it in my pocket.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I thought of smoking it in a cheap motel room with the girl I wanted to be with and a six pack of beers. Isn't that the life?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
But when we got to the motel room, one hundred and twenty six dollars later, I couldn't find the pot.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I must have dropped it in the car on our way there.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I told her I'll be back and left to buy pot, in the middle of the night took a cab back to my neighborhood, but couldn't find one single dealer on the desolate frozen streets.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Kathelyn stayed in the motel room and I feared she might left so I slapped her on her butt and grabbed her hard against me, until she got into the mood.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then I left her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She was on the phone with her friend.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Drinking one of the beers.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I couldn't find anyone.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
No one.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Who sells pot.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then I went back to the apartment and relived the encounter I had had before with Isabel, looked for pot but couldn't find it.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
As I was leaving, I found the guy next door.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Literally, and unlike me, a full time pot head.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I asked if he had any to sell.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I got my pot and went back to the motel room.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Kathelyn was still there.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We drank and smoked.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then she didn't want to have sex.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Find, I said.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We fell asleep.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
A little while later, in the dark, as I was deep into sleep, she awoke and started bitch slap rapping me.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"You are an asshole, you know,"
Make time to simply indulge. says:
and she ended the whole with
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"And I am leaving"
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then I lost it.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I grabbed her by the hair and threw her on bed.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She tried to get up and I slapped her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I grabbed her hands.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She was scratching me.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was on top of her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"You're so aggressive" she said.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
And I fucked her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Amazing night.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Eh?
Oscar says:
you should check it out, he's very good
Boris says:
You do know there was an australian anthropologist by the name of Elliot Smith.
Boris says:
Don't you?
Oscar says:
i gotta let you go for now, i have a meeting in 5 minutes, should be back in 30 mins. if you're still around
Boris says:
I am kind of inclined towards science than art.
Boris says:
Ok.
Boris says:
Later.
Oscar says:
boris
Boris says:
dime
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
oscar
Oscar says:
boris suena mas intelectual
Oscar says:
damian
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I know.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Boris Amar
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
is hell of a writer's name.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Thank you for your condescension.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Kidding!
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Mondays I love.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I wake up to an apartment all to myself.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I have a blast.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Coffee.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Lots of coffee.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Music.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Semi-loud music.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
Writing.
Have a full morning, eve or night for yourself to simply indulge says:
I'm cooking words.
Oscar says:
take that message off, it's confusing'
Simply indulge says:
that's much better.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
this one i like best.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It's just not as hedonistic.
Oscar says:
it's not as long
Oscar says:
chatting with anybody in particular?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
No,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
writing that's all.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Actually, I make time for it. Mondays mornings are dreaded by so many others but they are for now my only subterfuge of solitude. When I have time to be spent with whomever it is I can spend it with, and most of my favorite people is naturally tied to their routines, I enjoy amply my own company
Oscar says:
so you like mondays
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I don't say that.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
careful now.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I say that WE make our happy TIME
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It could very well be on Monday.
Oscar says:
oh
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Listen to Muse's "Orgin of Symmetry", the song called "Feeling Good"
Oscar says:
you remember carolina?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yeah.
Oscar says:
you ever talked to her again?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I am not sure as to which Carolina you're reffering.
Oscar says:
the fat one
Oscar says:
really smart girl
Make time to simply indulge. says:
No.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
But I have met another Carolina.
Oscar says:
but you remember her
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She was the stunningly beauty queen with insecurities that I regarded as natural given her physical attributes.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Dating a guy twenty years older than her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She also liked to be dependent.
Oscar says:
who was this
Make time to simply indulge. says:
A Carolina surprisingly I met in Terra two years ago.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
A year ago, we ended up dating.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
When Isabel and I broke up
Make time to simply indulge. says:
When Isabel found me con una puertorricura que tenia complejo de fea
Make time to simply indulge. says:
rubia delgada nalgoncita de ojos azules
Oscar says:
y esa era carolina?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
no
Make time to simply indulge. says:
esa era kathelyn
Make time to simply indulge. says:
aunque ya conocia a carolina hace un año
Oscar says:
la de ojos azules
Make time to simply indulge. says:
kathelyn
Oscar says:
era kathelyn
Make time to simply indulge. says:
la de azules
Make time to simply indulge. says:
si
Make time to simply indulge. says:
puertoriqueña
Make time to simply indulge. says:
r
Oscar says:
continua'
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel took off work and hided in the bedroom.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I brought the puertorican home.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I had candles and wine.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
The way I saw it was it was cheaper than going to the movies.
Oscar says:
isabel was hiding in the bedroom
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yes.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
In the closet.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
In the bedroom.
Oscar says:
this is hysterical
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yes, quite so.
Oscar says:
continue
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I put music, I pour wine, I toss with intertwiching arms.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We are dancing and heart pounding stormed Isabel out of the bedroom.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Into the living room.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Do you think I said it all?
Oscar says:
una boricua y una dominicana en una escena de estas, you cant script it any better
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Not even close.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I am getting better.
Oscar says:
go on, this is too goog
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It's my metamorphosis.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Well,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel was beautifully dressed with make up and all.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I tried to cool her down.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It was impossible.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel threw panties I had from Kathelyn in her face
Oscar says:
you should have proposed a threesome
Oscar says:
wher did you have the apnties
Make time to simply indulge. says:
In my bag, the one I take to work.
Hidden in a little compartment within the bag.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
They were dirty.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I used to smell them at work hiding in the bathroom and write obsene text-messages to whom I called my beautiful whore.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Anyway.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel found them.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Beware of scourned women.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
To top it off, I ran behind Kathelyn.
Oscar says:
continue this is too good
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was barefooted and followed her two blocks walking on the burning two days old snow that had turned into that frozen slippery ice.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
It was very cold out.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Not freezing. But cold.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I went back.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Isabel was crying.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
There was a moment of pain in my heart when she broke down and like looking to a corner said as if talking to the walls,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"Yo no me merezco esto. Yo que lucho por tener algo mejor y que me he sacrificado por ti."
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She had told Kathelyn that she had bore my baby in her womb before having a miscarriage not more than three months ago as she rubbed the panties on her face
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was holding her back even then.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Anyway.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I also was horny.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We men tend to get this way.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Whenever women are emotional we get aroused.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Yes?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I put shoes on and zigzagged her bittered words,
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I put aside all her rencor.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
And closed the door behind her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was able to catch up with Kathelyn who lives only six downhill blocks apart.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I went inside the building she lives in.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She lit a cigarrette.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I convinced her to go for a walk.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
To get away.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She obliged.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
After everything that happened.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She left with me.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
If this isn't a testament to women's inclination towards fatality I don't know what is.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I had money.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We best of all the worst joints around. A restaurant with dark lights and loud music and we sat in the back, shrouded in shadows, and ordered a couple of drinks.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We left to a motel.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
All along I remember being glad that I had taken a little bit of pot I had left and placed it in my pocket.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I thought of smoking it in a cheap motel room with the girl I wanted to be with and a six pack of beers. Isn't that the life?
Make time to simply indulge. says:
But when we got to the motel room, one hundred and twenty six dollars later, I couldn't find the pot.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I must have dropped it in the car on our way there.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I told her I'll be back and left to buy pot, in the middle of the night took a cab back to my neighborhood, but couldn't find one single dealer on the desolate frozen streets.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Kathelyn stayed in the motel room and I feared she might left so I slapped her on her butt and grabbed her hard against me, until she got into the mood.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then I left her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She was on the phone with her friend.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Drinking one of the beers.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I couldn't find anyone.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
No one.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Who sells pot.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then I went back to the apartment and relived the encounter I had had before with Isabel, looked for pot but couldn't find it.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
As I was leaving, I found the guy next door.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Literally, and unlike me, a full time pot head.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I asked if he had any to sell.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I got my pot and went back to the motel room.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Kathelyn was still there.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We drank and smoked.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then she didn't want to have sex.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Find, I said.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
We fell asleep.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
A little while later, in the dark, as I was deep into sleep, she awoke and started bitch slap rapping me.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"You are an asshole, you know,"
Make time to simply indulge. says:
and she ended the whole with
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"And I am leaving"
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Then I lost it.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I grabbed her by the hair and threw her on bed.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She tried to get up and I slapped her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I grabbed her hands.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
She was scratching me.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
I was on top of her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
"You're so aggressive" she said.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
And I fucked her.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Amazing night.
Make time to simply indulge. says:
Eh?
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