I just came so hard I need a snack. Ignoring the blood-laden protests of my still pulsating crotch, I swing my legs out of bed and go straight for the fridge. Grapes, lemon yogurt and a chocolate brownie. Veritable buffet by my standards. Oomphing into the computer chair, I debate my media choices. An hour before my bus I could either play a game, watch a show or listen to the radio. Getting ready for work, I’ve never felt more like myself than now. Continue reading Boy Orgasm
Everyone at the bar is a similar version of someone I know. A strange philosophical anthropology where I’ve condensed everything I know about human nature to a few major archetypes, I’m not arrogant enough to think it’s measurable. I ascribe to empathy and the idea that sensitivity extends beyond the frayed nerves you see on my exterior. Feeling someone’s aura is only called intuition when it’s useful. The gut feeling that a person is bad for you doesn’t count if you still sleep with them. That’s called setting a trap and then falling into it. Recognizing bad seeds is a talent. Don’t get it twisted. Continue reading Compartmentalization
The best part of my life is moments like these. Continue reading Saturnalia
Knowing people are just saying most things doesn’t stop my romantic tendency to believe them sometimes. Using empirical evidence I’ve found the line between hopeless and far-fetched. Stretching my goals gives the world just enough contrast to keep me interested. Everyday people can’t conceive how far the human mind goes beyond reality without outward indications. Spending time on the fringe of society alters perspectives. For most people being altered is bad. I decided to embrace the discomfort and see what living lean has to offer. Continue reading Poverty Line
Firmly establishing what my identity isn’t linked to, I’m faced with the bigger question of what is? An advantage to peeling away these layers of repression is high contrast. Each raw, painful memory stripped and exposed leaves a virtual road map to the sources of my insecurity. I only lament not getting more tattoos. Continue reading Not My Hair
North Mississippi All Stars is playing the Croc tomorrow night and I feel conflicted. A group that literally played events for my high school peers while I actively avoided them but I still kinda want to go. Much like the rest of Southern music in the 90s, it wasn’t the quality of artist but their fans that detracted from my experience. If I go see a show in Seattle in 2017 what sort of peers will I have? There’s so much good music I left behind in Memphis. I’m haunted with a need for soul that might make me pay $20 for nostalgia purposes alone. Perfect time to be Memphis as Fuck. Continue reading Southern Music
The most recent Simpsons episode is pretty great. I could really feel the Fuck You’s in the writing. Clearly still written by men, there’s a short speech about a girl becoming a woman who wants to be a mother and I totally understand the contextual nature of the situation but a run-on sentence is the only way to express my dissatisfaction at the misplaced sentiment. Life is about change and not everything is for everyone. I don’t expect to be right about everything yet I’m completely sure of myself. The past few years were about learning to fall gracefully. Getting back up? That happens at your own pace. Continue reading The Serfsons
The story is complete. I didn’t find the villain until the very end and surprise, it’s not actually me. Shedding the last of my childhood trappings, I finally shaved my head completely. Fulfilling a 21-year old desire, it brought me right back to the center of the wheel. Less of a fool, I’m sure of the magician inside me. The next few symbolic roles may or may not play into the story but I’m going all the way up to the Tower. Everything after that is just sycophantic fluff. Continue reading Perhaps.
Driving toward the airport at 3am, I’m mildly annoyed. Not that I’m driving, but that I spent my birthday alone. Dave was asleep because of this 3am flight. Dan was throwing a fit about some drunk tease I whispered to him the night before. Matt was available but only to have me come to his place – not what I’m into. If anyone wants to get into my birthday suit-pants they have to do the requisite legwork. Consequently, I stumbled home alone at midnight and watched Project Runway quietly while Dave slept in the other room. Born to lose, I’m used to disappointment during supposedly special occasions. I would have had more fun at work. Continue reading What A Difference