March is the month of Angst
I have always dreaded march. i hope this one is someway better than my past marches. i am so filled with anxiety, i feel like a scared little ol' nursing home victim. why? my life has so much to love and embrase and jump fer joy for, but still i feel like i am caged. caged by doubt... may be... may be nay.
have you, dear audience, made fuck with the wrong person... i mean entered into it with the wrong person... i mean been drawn to someone like all those cliches of magnetics, ocean tides, the moon, the stars, all that blahblahblah? have you? i have. the perfect woman. i did not know she was a slave. what is a cripple to do? she sucked my manhood into her yoni like a vacuume cleaner inhaling a hotdog; only hot, wet, and form fitting. she was nineteen, and held by a man more than twice her age. i can't say anything about them, for i am not them. but she wanted me, and hunted me, and fed me chocolate off her finger, and now, now, i am forever without her, and her owner has her permanent like. she cares for him. cleans him. keeps him freshly supplied. did i mention she looks just like Patty Hurst (shpell?) when the young billionairess was kidnapped by the SLA? she does. it's spooky. the dude who owns her is a blind wizard. he can sing the tits off a female moose at twenty paces. maybe that's why her tits are so sensitive. he is protected by a circle of dark elves, and i have been locked out and cursed. kissing her boobies was like licking a live wire; only fleshy, like little fingers that poked up and quivered against my tongue. she tasted like olives straight from the tree. i wonder if i was just a game? she told me she loved me. i had to fight a psychic battle for 181 days that nearly killed me. a myst blade was shoved into my spine. it made me even more the gimp. i finally pulled it out. i am healing. now, i am the exiled one. the outed, and 7/9ths of a % glad for it. i need something, someone, somehow to fill the void. i go to a party tonight. i am afeared of the interaction. i haven't had a social moment beyond social workers, biznez calls, or my 4+1/2 year old son in nearly a week. ( if i can't hold a mowen's chest to mine soon, i will implode. oh, Konstanza, where have you gone?) i cut my own hair tonight. it looks like shit, but i gelled it beyond recognition. i hope to leave in the next hour. glory be mine. here i pray. glory be to me. hear me oh, glory. help me to find a way in this world. i am wearing my power helm. it is clipped against my hear, and reminds me that even though i feel i am alone, my people are out there, recovering, and i will meet them again.
if you suspect yourself of being elvin, remember: being sensitive will save your life, if it doesn't kill you first.
i am thinking of pheonix a lot. the reason for this blog. finding folks like she. i love to read her work. she is what i guess is out there. if only i wasn't so sidlexic, i would read her more, and faster, and read other blogs more-n-faster too. but reading is so slow for me. even with my new glasses. ug.
who she is, how she is - the curiosity mounts.
how lucky we all are to be alive. how hard it is to feel this. My friend Podi had me send my Hunter S. Thompson rant off to RS. i wonder what my editor will say when he learns of that. he hates it when i don't let him peek and tweak, as he says. shit. if i don't get my advance soon, i'm gonna have to sell something. if only i could count, i'd probably never have started writing. how the hell does anyone get by anymore? this life is one long improbabilititty.
a joke i wrote tonight.
General Lee was a very steadfast man. He never did anything 1/2 way. "Always finish what you start." He was fond of saying. That is why when his 2nd in command used the latrine after the General, as any respectable 2nd in command might, wait for the General to go first, of course, he would always find, there in the latrine, a whole Lee crap.
ba-dum-ching.
love! peace! silliness!
~ Itwifizzled
have you, dear audience, made fuck with the wrong person... i mean entered into it with the wrong person... i mean been drawn to someone like all those cliches of magnetics, ocean tides, the moon, the stars, all that blahblahblah? have you? i have. the perfect woman. i did not know she was a slave. what is a cripple to do? she sucked my manhood into her yoni like a vacuume cleaner inhaling a hotdog; only hot, wet, and form fitting. she was nineteen, and held by a man more than twice her age. i can't say anything about them, for i am not them. but she wanted me, and hunted me, and fed me chocolate off her finger, and now, now, i am forever without her, and her owner has her permanent like. she cares for him. cleans him. keeps him freshly supplied. did i mention she looks just like Patty Hurst (shpell?) when the young billionairess was kidnapped by the SLA? she does. it's spooky. the dude who owns her is a blind wizard. he can sing the tits off a female moose at twenty paces. maybe that's why her tits are so sensitive. he is protected by a circle of dark elves, and i have been locked out and cursed. kissing her boobies was like licking a live wire; only fleshy, like little fingers that poked up and quivered against my tongue. she tasted like olives straight from the tree. i wonder if i was just a game? she told me she loved me. i had to fight a psychic battle for 181 days that nearly killed me. a myst blade was shoved into my spine. it made me even more the gimp. i finally pulled it out. i am healing. now, i am the exiled one. the outed, and 7/9ths of a % glad for it. i need something, someone, somehow to fill the void. i go to a party tonight. i am afeared of the interaction. i haven't had a social moment beyond social workers, biznez calls, or my 4+1/2 year old son in nearly a week. ( if i can't hold a mowen's chest to mine soon, i will implode. oh, Konstanza, where have you gone?) i cut my own hair tonight. it looks like shit, but i gelled it beyond recognition. i hope to leave in the next hour. glory be mine. here i pray. glory be to me. hear me oh, glory. help me to find a way in this world. i am wearing my power helm. it is clipped against my hear, and reminds me that even though i feel i am alone, my people are out there, recovering, and i will meet them again.
if you suspect yourself of being elvin, remember: being sensitive will save your life, if it doesn't kill you first.
i am thinking of pheonix a lot. the reason for this blog. finding folks like she. i love to read her work. she is what i guess is out there. if only i wasn't so sidlexic, i would read her more, and faster, and read other blogs more-n-faster too. but reading is so slow for me. even with my new glasses. ug.
who she is, how she is - the curiosity mounts.
how lucky we all are to be alive. how hard it is to feel this. My friend Podi had me send my Hunter S. Thompson rant off to RS. i wonder what my editor will say when he learns of that. he hates it when i don't let him peek and tweak, as he says. shit. if i don't get my advance soon, i'm gonna have to sell something. if only i could count, i'd probably never have started writing. how the hell does anyone get by anymore? this life is one long improbabilititty.
a joke i wrote tonight.
General Lee was a very steadfast man. He never did anything 1/2 way. "Always finish what you start." He was fond of saying. That is why when his 2nd in command used the latrine after the General, as any respectable 2nd in command might, wait for the General to go first, of course, he would always find, there in the latrine, a whole Lee crap.
ba-dum-ching.
love! peace! silliness!
~ Itwifizzled
posted by iTWiTiS | 7:22:00 PM
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3 comments
