Bits and pieces

On the road

Did you know there are people that stay at hotels more than they do in their own place of residency?

I'm sorry... but that's gotta fucking suck

Sure a lot of these individuals are in sales or someone who's job discription/title doesn't include the word "technician" and are making bank hand over fist... but to what end? You have no life and for all practical purposes you have no real home. Sure you get to wow people with all your bullshit stories about where all that you've been and all the people you've come to know... but you know what? You really can't say that you've been anywhere and you sure the fuck haven't come to know anyone except in passing, for the purpose of closing the deal, or to flesh out what you can as to why that particular district is underperforming compared to all the others.

Call me crazy, but that generalization of a life I really know nothing about seems pretty fucking empty.

But you know what? Empty people need to keep moving. They are kinda like sharks in the sense that if they stop swimming they suffocate. The world closes in. Their McMansion is just what it is, like all the rest of them at the end of the dead end street. Devoid of character. Devoid of personal history beyond that of a single generation... that hasn't even really lived in it.

But then look at me and my homebody life. What exactly do I know about anything? The only places I go are places that I've already been. The grand vistas I see before me are the ones I paint myself upon the walls of familiarity. I've not seen the ocean beyond that of a bay or sound and have flown across the states but once in my life. Most individuals I know and have come to call friends are those that have been handed down to me through marriage and siblings. I am introduced to, more than I introduce.

but fuck if I'm not feeling pretty content at the moment with who I am, where my life is at, and what I've accomplished.

You know...

After having slept on it a little bit and waking up to the sound of traffic outside, I'm pretty sure I let my pompous assholishness get in the way of my usual jackassery.

I really don't think the life I spoke so harshly of isn't so much one willingly chooses to live as it is one that one is subjcted to live.

And by "the life I spoke of so harshly of" I mean the one that wasn't mine up there. You see I am a homebody of my own free will. No particular individual or circumstance is forcing me to be who I am and do what I do. It is something I choose to be. And I admit that I choose to be largely out of some unknown irrational fear. One of which I just got the feeling of being associated with or having something to do with the loss of my father at such an early age.




Stick to what you know
So you don't lose
What you love.

I will never be one of those barrel chested men

I will never look as though I had any weight behind a punch
As I age I will lose the height I once had
Nurses and nurse's aides will affectionately refer to me as one of their "little old bird men"


Because I am slight.

Truth be told...

I'm actually not. Well not so much anyway.

I'm just trying to score big with the self-harming, psycho emo-chick demographic like I once did back in my tumblr days. Now that was a trip.

Because she is sleeping next to me

I can still smell her on my body
I got up to piss and my cock was sticky with our fuck
I started to get hard again
And jerked off up to the point of feeling good
Then I stopped

The stories I have of her in my head are beyond counting
I end up finishing before my thoughts finish them
They go on forever
The ones about her getting confused by the layout of the truck stop
The ones that involve my brothers
The ones that have been experienced but further elaborated on

And so many many more

Tonight I watched her pick at an ingrown hair near the center of my chest
The warm soft flesh of her large breasts pressed up against me, billowing out around my arm as the volume of her lengthy hair blanketed my shoulder

I watched her
And she was beautiful

She is beautiful
She is also caring
Caring of me
Of others

It's taxing though
She's the type that is compelled to do what is right
And never falters

She has a fear of being wrong
Being in the wrong
She fears losing control of her emotions
Eventhough it feels good to her

Some time ago she lost it with me

Because I'm not the awesome man--let alone husband--you've made yourself think that I was in spite of me telling you all outright over and over never mind the fact that even if I didn't any woman with the possession of deductive reasoning would be able to tell that ah... I kinda have issues.

We were in bed
I don't remember the specifics
I do remember it was well deserved

She absolutely lost it
Started hitting me
Slapping me over and over all over wherever she could

I didn't retaliate. I couldn't
And I wouldn't.

She then shot out of the bedroom
And broke down crying in the living room
Crying because of me because of what I did

And because of what I made her do to me.


And I feel horrible for it

Later as we began working things out she stone cold soberly admitted that it felt good to have lost it like she did.

It felt good to have had her lose it on me.


She is passionate
Deeply passionate
Beautifully passionate

But it is difficult
The language is there
But the ability to speak it isn't

Passion is not linear
It is not logical
It ebbs and flows and jumps when it should duck
It is inept and stupid
It cannot be quantified
Or adequately measured
Or taught
Every attempt to understand it has lead to madness

...and fear of self
of what one can do to another

And to know the language
But know not how to speak it...

To know how
But not know how to teach it...

To express it
To show it
To have her feel it
And take her in my arms
And let her let go
And to be able to be there with her when she does

To see the worth of your madness quantified in her eyes...

It was pretty touch-and-go...

I use it to cut the flowers I grow for my wife.

You write beautifully, and I love your photos. Beautiful feet, mister.
And I've only gone back through the month of May. I'll be spending more time here.

y=mx+b said:

It was pretty touch-and-go...

Click to expand...

mmm Mmm Mmm

I love it all.

I find myself wishing that I could be one of your tattoos.

Not the tattoo itself
Not the image

But the ink.

I wish I could feel you feel me flow into you
And be with you
To continue being with you

Even when you forget
I would be there

A part of me

A color of thought

A flowing emotional memory
Of some seamless experience
Felt when you see two others feel each other

Exchanging what was once echanged between you and I

I want that

I want to be made beautiful because of you
I want you to feel beautiful because of me.

I want to wake up with you next to me.

I apologize for being as random as I have been as of late.

Not really though

Just as I'm not sorry for not having any new photos
Or not replying directly to anyone that leaves a comment

I know I really should be more interactive like I once was
Doing so would certainly make me feel a lot better about myself because it fucking blows to keep one's own company. Particularly when one has a penchant for being such a miserable fuck.

But then again... There are those moments when I'm king shit of the motherfucking awesome table and... well... fuck I'm awesome! And who wants to interrupt that?

But then nobody does and ultimately I make an ass out of myself

But because I don't interact with anyone I don't really give a fuck. And neither do you!

And I go back to writing
And you go back to reading

And so see... we all win in the end!

Erections

Having an erection just plain feels good

It does
Even when there's little chance of it being put to use

Whenever I wake up erect
I'll throw the blankets off me and just lay there
Looking at myself
And focusing on how it feels

The heat of it
The pressure of it
Straining against the limits of my anatomy

I'll look at it
Thinking
Wondering
How I manage to slide such a thing up my wife's asshole

Now it's not like I'm of pornstar dimensions
But even she wonders how we manage to make it work

And I'm glad that we do
And I'm glad I imposed my self upon her with the idea until she caved

Was it right of me to do so?
Fuck no it wasn't

But then it wasn't as though I was all like "take it bitch!"

That said, when we get to reminiscing about various aspects of our sex life she'll bring to light how adamant I was about it which leaves me feeling somewhere between being a self-entitled fucktard and whiny little bitch.

But once she seemingly challenged herself to conquer my cock, and did just that, she too is glad that we make it work. Because as it turns out, she likes it up the ass. She also likes her nipples pinched absurdly hard while in the throws of orgasm.

Truth be told
My wife likes it hard and painful

But you can't tell her that
Nor can she tell you either

What's interesting is that she's revolted by such scenes in porn and the mere mention or suggestion of it taking place (tonight) is a sure way to risk anything from taking place.

It's weird in how she is unable to identify what it is that she likes

It's equally frustrating.

Holy Dog Shit!

Never really occurred to me to check my post count

Way closer to the 5k mark than I thought

Pretty sure this show will not be picked up for the next season of my life.
Largely because let's face it--I jumped the shark a good thousand posts ago

And I've got nothing new to add
A person can only write so much about themselves before even they begin to feel exhausted by what they have to say.

And really, it's not like I'm offering much insight into yourself. Not anymore.



So I am debating what my 4999th post should be
My first thought was how that would be a great time to post a full on pic of myself as is (clothed of course) for those that haven't seen me finally get to see the wizard behind the curtain.

But I don't know that I feel like it

y=mx+b said:

Never really occurred to me to check my post count

Way closer to the 5k mark than I thought

Pretty sure this show will not be picked up for the next season of my life.
Largely because let's face it--I jumped the shark a good thousand posts ago

And I've got nothing new to add
A person can only write so much about themselves before even they begin to feel exhausted by what they have to say.

And really, it's not like I'm offering much insight into yourself. Not anymore.



So I am debating what my 4999th post should be
My first thought was how that would be a great time to post a full on pic of myself as is (clothed of course) for those that haven't seen me finally get to see the wizard behind the curtain.

But I don't know that I feel like it

Click to expand...

Pretty please?

xSleepingBeauty said:

Pretty please?

Click to expand...

We'll see.

The Ambien Headache

How does one describe such a sudden beauty known as The Ambien Headache?

What makes them so great is that you swear it's one of those run-of-the-mill caffeine headaches

And so you make a mad grab for all things possibly caffeinated
My best memorable moment is finding myself white blind in one eye sitting on the kitchen floor taking a bit out of a bar of 99% baking cocoa whilst waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

In the back of your mind is the pondering about what exactly are the symptoms of a stroke. Slurred speech being one of them you recite Mary Had a Little Lamb figuring that if you can both say it as well as remember the fucking words to it, you're in the clear.

Of course if you've ever bit off a chunk of baking cocoa you'll know that this really doesn't work all that well. And you grab the bottle of aspirin because you know it's a blood thinner and you take a few of them--like... 8 seems like a safe number to take. Because you know, it's an emergency.

But it's not a safe number to take. Particularly when they catch up to the 2 Advil you took an hour ago when the idea of a headache was just that and you wanted to head it off at the pass.

So on the way to finding the bag of kingsford bbq briquettes you swear is the antidote to the drano byproduct that is created by Advil, aspirin, baking cocoa, and the coffee grounds you ate because the coffee was taking too fucking long to brew you think... "this very well could be a migraine!"

But it isn't.
You don't know why it isn't.
But you know it isn't
It's as if it being a migraine would be too simple
And you can still function for the most part

And so you want to go to bed to sleep the life out of your existence
But the pain is so great you know any attempt is for naught
So you fumble through your prescription bottles like the junky you think you might be and heroin starts making sense when it hits you... MOTHERFUCKER!

And you stare at the bottle in absolute disdain
It is both the cause and the cure
Because nothing takes the edge off an Ambien headache
Nothing
And the only way out of the cycle is to stop taking them

And so you do
Because it's bullshit

And you're a masochist

And so now I lay here...

next to my wife.

She has a soft snore about her
It is comforting

She is comforting



I wish I could give her what she needs
I wish I could do what she needs me to do

A post or two ago I made reference to how frustrating something about her was.
Without a doubt she is just as frustrated with me.

To be brutally
Brutally honest

I'm an apprehensive lover
Fuck...
I'm an apprehensive human

I am a spider huddled in the shadowy eaves
Between fear and doubt

Ruminating
Second guessing



Am I cutting myself down?

Fuck yes I am!


I know I'm beating myself up
Not giving myself credit for my strengths
Being all such-is-my-lot

But such is

And I hate it

And years of therapy has done absolutely fucking nothing to fix it.


So fuck it
I'm a joke

I'm incapable of even falling asleep


She stopped snoring
I think in her sleep she caught on to me being a pussy and is now pissed at herself for believing me to be more adiquate than I really am.

That said...

I fucked her good the other night
I seriously did

The woman is absolutely built for fucking.

Nordic stock
Minus the blond with blue eyes

Fucking love it

She's laying facedown right now and I just want to jump on her, throw an elbow across her face, hook the top of her panties with my toes, kick them down off the bed, and rape-fuck her awake until she passes the fuck out again.

So what's stopping me?

An over abundance of concideration
That's what's stopping me

That and the fact I'm not hard

In order to pull a thing like that off
It's best to be unquestionably hard

Otherwise it's kind of a joke
Like watching a puppy hump the top of the head of a teddy bear

And how dumb is it to be all "you're going to take it! but ah... could you maybe suck it a little? I mean... you know, just to get me going."

And I can't really get things going myself. I mean... what if the motion of masturbating wakes her and she's all... "really? I'm right fucking here."

Viagra you say? Meh... thing about that is that I'd have to know I was going to be in the mood. The short fall of viagra and all that is the useless erection

WHAT! The hell I say!

Oh no... I do say.

being erect does not always equate being horny


The more I droll on about this the more I think I make myself sound like I'm a bitter impotant male. I assure you I am not. If anything I'm a bitter-unable-to-sleep-and-won't-take-Ambien-for-already-stated-reasons male that also has to piss really fucking bad now.

So anyway... there's your something to read

P.s.

I liked me better when I wrote poetic type shit and find me rather annoying when I write otherwise.

So what I'm saying is that you are not alone about your opinion of me.

I'll do what I can to change that.

y=mx+b said:

I find myself wishing that I could be one of your tattoos.

Not the tattoo itself
Not the image

But the ink.

I wish I could feel you feel me flow into you
And be with you
To continue being with you

Even when you forget
I would be there

A part of me

A color of thought

A flowing emotional memory
Of some seamless experience
Felt when you see two others feel each other

Exchanging what was once echanged between you and I

I want that

I want to be made beautiful because of you
I want you to feel beautiful because of me.

Click to expand...

This is nice, romantic, poetic shit, man.

AntonyB said:

This is nice, romantic, poetic shit, man.

Click to expand...

Thank you

Off to work.

But before I go...

I like the romantic philosphophical poetic pieces. But you're also witty, and downright funny in the Ambien/Viagra posts. Doesn't feel at all whiney or bitter to me.

Bottom line: I hope you start another thread when this is full.

I am not a cat lover, but I adore hands, and yours is beautiful.

murmurmara said:

I like the romantic philosphophical poetic pieces. But you're also witty, and downright funny in the Ambien/Viagra posts. Doesn't feel at all whiney or bitter to me.

Bottom line: I hope you start another thread when this is full.

I am not a cat lover, but I adore hands, and yours is beautiful.

Click to expand...

I thought about it tonight at work.

Starting another thread that is
I mean
My life does continue.

y=mx+b said:

I thought about it tonight at work.

Starting another thread that is
I mean
My life does continue.

Click to expand...

Look forward to reading and seeing more, you better start another thread.