Desultory and Impulsive

I laughed out loud at that.



Fucking agreed.



That's one of the best putting together of words I've read to date.



I know, right? A veritable street fuck explosion.

.

Thank you. Although I have moved on from my time of loss and whatnot and know that I am never alone, it feels good to be in the company of someone else thinking the such is bullshit just as well.
 
This is brilliant.

I greatly appreciate you for saying so
And for making it known that you either happened upon this thread of mine at the right time, or that you are one of those elusive shadow people content on watching from afar.

Whatever the case may be I will make the gravity of my appreciation known by giving you this here emoti rose.





To: Corbal
From: y=mx+b

--------------------------> :rose: <----------------------------
 
Where any of you at the public library today?

Say... sometime between the hours of one and three?


Having recently moved back into the area, my wife and I stopped in to get new library cards and sitting at the small bank of computers was a woman with two or three of her children. All nobly making use of the free internet.

As a natural reaction to someone new having arrived she looked in our direction and we made eye contact. I nodded, she gave me a sincere tight lipped straight smile and returned her attention back to her work on the computer with a somewhat defeated air about her as if to say "married or not, had I known a man I've never seen before around town was going to come to the library I would have worn a blouse or something instead of this stupid baggy t-shirt. God please let my kids remain well behaved..."

Fact of the matter is that I found her profoundly attractive. Yeah I get the concern. Women all wish to be at their most attractive and never feel as though they are whenever they feel that they need be.

Fact of the matter is this ladies. Do any of you know how you look with the side of your face pushed half against the mattress and half against the headboard getting deep-dick railed from behind?

Or how about completely afterwards with your hair all every-which-way all waxy from sweat, fuck, and lube?

I'll tell you how you look and I'll be honest about it because I got nothing to lose.

You look like a hot mess
A sexy hot fucking mess.

Throw clothes on you and sit you down in the public library kids in tow or not and guess what? You still look like a sexy hot as fuck hot mess.

Of course none of you believe me because you all are woman and by nature of your gender you all automatically assume that you are the one exception to the rule.

Whatever. There's nothing I can do about that.


So the librarian is getting our paperwork to fill out and I happen to glance over at this woman and we make eye contact again but it was a sustained type of eye contact the kind one gives to another where one feels as though they have seen the other somewhere else but can't fucking place it.

Upon realizing this she turned back and faced her computer but didn't do anything. Just stared at the screen seemingly searching her own memory.

So the librarian gives us our paperwork and directs us to the tables in the back where we can sit and fill them out.

We make our way back there and lo 'n behold there's another woman hunkered down in one of the well worn recliner type chairs looking as much like a hot mess as the other woman but in a sci-fi fan kind of way. And she gave me the stare down as well!

It made me feel kinda uneasy really.because most of the time women wishing they made more of an effort to look better than they felt they did kinda shrink away out of sight. These two were like "fuck I look like shit! I don't care. This guy.:. I don't know. He looks like shit too but in a sexy hot I don't give a fuck kinda way. Plus he smiled at me. And I don't know. There's just something... off about him. Kinda reminds me of this guy that writes all weird-like for no real reason and to no one in particular but it kinda feels like he's writing to me and even though I know he isn't I like to think that he is. Does that make me psycho? Is that his wife? I HATE HER! But he writes about her in such a way that I find myself kinda fond of her. And really, what's being married to THAT guy like. I mean... some of the things he writes about that I wish he wouldn't. But even if he didn't he still a bit much. I mean with his moods and being all... meta. OMG he is SO meta! I wonder what it's like inside his head? I bet it's all Inception-y and stuff. How can he keep track of any of it? I bet he is his own best friend that he doesn't really like but has no one else so he has no choice but to hangout with himself all the time. I bet he's a good fuck."


Which all made me think that at least one of them HAD to be one of you.
 
My tattooed self would be a dead give away, looks like I'm out of the question
 
My tattooed self would be a dead give away, looks like I'm out of the question

I didn't even bother with you crossing my mind.
I mean; are you, tattooed hellion reprobates, even allowed in libraries?
 
I didn't even bother with you crossing my mind.
I mean; are you, tattooed hellion reprobates, even allowed in libraries?

tattooed hellion reprobate.. ha, I think that might be a first.
anyhow, to answer the question, I'm most certainly allowed in a library.
last time I was in a library I believe I ...

.. should probably not be permitted to go into a library.
 
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Random related thought

M-720 and fiancé fucking in a library = hot

Some random woman masturbating in a library = hot

Some random guy masturbating in a library = sex offender


Not that I think it should be remotely any other way.
 
Say... sometime between the hours of one and three?


Having recently moved back into the area, my wife and I stopped in to get new library cards and sitting at the small bank of computers was a woman with two or three of her children. All nobly making use of the free internet.

As a natural reaction to someone new having arrived she looked in our direction and we made eye contact. I nodded, she gave me a sincere tight lipped straight smile and returned her attention back to her work on the computer with a somewhat defeated air about her as if to say "married or not, had I known a man I've never seen before around town was going to come to the library I would have worn a blouse or something instead of this stupid baggy t-shirt. God please let my kids remain well behaved..."

Fact of the matter is that I found her profoundly attractive. Yeah I get the concern. Women all wish to be at their most attractive and never feel as though they are whenever they feel that they need be.

Fact of the matter is this ladies. Do any of you know how you look with the side of your face pushed half against the mattress and half against the headboard getting deep-dick railed from behind?

Or how about completely afterwards with your hair all every-which-way all waxy from sweat, fuck, and lube?

I'll tell you how you look and I'll be honest about it because I got nothing to lose.

You look like a hot mess
A sexy hot fucking mess.

Throw clothes on you and sit you down in the public library kids in tow or not and guess what? You still look like a sexy hot as fuck hot mess.

Of course none of you believe me because you all are woman and by nature of your gender you all automatically assume that you are the one exception to the rule.

Whatever. There's nothing I can do about that.


So the librarian is getting our paperwork to fill out and I happen to glance over at this woman and we make eye contact again but it was a sustained type of eye contact the kind one gives to another where one feels as though they have seen the other somewhere else but can't fucking place it.

Upon realizing this she turned back and faced her computer but didn't do anything. Just stared at the screen seemingly searching her own memory.

So the librarian gives us our paperwork and directs us to the tables in the back where we can sit and fill them out.

We make our way back there and lo 'n behold there's another woman hunkered down in one of the well worn recliner type chairs looking as much like a hot mess as the other woman but in a sci-fi fan kind of way. And she gave me the stare down as well!

It made me feel kinda uneasy really.because most of the time women wishing they made more of an effort to look better than they felt they did kinda shrink away out of sight. These two were like "fuck I look like shit! I don't care. This guy.:. I don't know. He looks like shit too but in a sexy hot I don't give a fuck kinda way. Plus he smiled at me. And I don't know. There's just something... off about him. Kinda reminds me of this guy that writes all weird-like for no real reason and to no one in particular but it kinda feels like he's writing to me and even though I know he isn't I like to think that he is. Does that make me psycho? Is that his wife? I HATE HER! But he writes about her in such a way that I find myself kinda fond of her. And really, what's being married to THAT guy like. I mean... some of the things he writes about that I wish he wouldn't. But even if he didn't he still a bit much. I mean with his moods and being all... meta. OMG he is SO meta! I wonder what it's like inside his head? I bet it's all Inception-y and stuff. How can he keep track of any of it? I bet he is his own best friend that he doesn't really like but has no one else so he has no choice but to hangout with himself all the time. I bet he's a good fuck."


Which all made me think that at least one of them HAD to be one of you.

<Canadian--- not me. But can I just say how much I enjoy the fact that you've been in your new location for a nano second and the library is that high up on your to do list.
 
<Canadian--- not me. But can I just say how much I enjoy the fact that you've been in your new location for a nano second and the library is that high up on your to do list.

Goddamnit.

I really wanted you to be the woman in the back. She reminded me of you. Her hair did anyway.

I wanted to take hold of it and plow her right there.
 
Everything here is still.

Quiet.

I absolutely forgot this and currently find myself rather ill prepared.
 
For as far as the eye can see.
 

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Sunday...

Is not the day of rest.
 

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I think I have said it before, I am always stunned by how well you understand your angles. You make the most mundane activities seem like something we would stare at in the photographs.
Bravo on these three images.
 
On not knowing, and knowing it.

This is going to be a multi-post post for reasons I believe you will understand.

Hopefully I'll be able to see myself through it.
_______________________________________________________

Not knowing what you don't know is magical

You don't know it
But it's like looking up at the stars
Floating in a pool of saline
That is of the exact same body temperature as you are.


Not knowing and knowing that you don't.


That is special level of hell.

I had a friend die of cancer a couple months back
He was one of those friends that drifted one way
Me the other.

There was a bit of a falling out between us that I think neither one of us knew why
But we went with it.

About a year ago my wife told me that she was contacted by him
She asked me if it was okay for her to give him my number

I told her no. It wasn't.
I am not sure why I did

I am not sure why I got so angry that she even asked me
But I did.

I wish that I didn't


A few months later he made it known on Facebook.



More or less than a year later he was dead.


He posted updates
How chemo was going
What it was like

He would post right before he went in to see how effective the treatment had been

He posted the options the doctor gave
Options that always seemed to change after each visit

Not any of them
Being all that great.
 
I wake up. It is midnight.

This anger
It consumes me.

Yesterday
It was sadness
An unbearable sadness
Triggered by something else
Outside that of my friends death.

The degree of which both are experienced
Is like standing in the hall of suicide
Where all the doors are shut
But for one that is cracked open
Way down at the other end.

It's not that I'm sucidal
Because I'm not.

It's that I'm there in the house
keeping company to those that once were

and no longer are.



If I were able to speak for them
I think I would ask if emotions are of little bearing
How is it that so much is accomplished by them?

Time and again
Logic wins out over emotion
Over and over again

Debates are lost over emotions
Emotions are the cause of bad decisions
Women have been dismissed world wide since the dawn of time for being "too emotional". Boys are called sissys when unable to overcome an internalized pain brought about by external sources.

And none of it matters.


"None of it matters"
--Go for a walk, you'll forget about it
--Do something fun that'll get your mind off it
None of it matters.

Sound advice
-for a logical condition.




The audacity my wife had asking me if it was okay to give my friend my phone number so that he could tell me he had been diagnosed with cancer. Fuck him for asking her and fuck her for asking me.

He is dead.
Unbeknown to me
I am the inexplicable reason why we drifted.

Me.


I am of the belief that suicide is of it's own psychological condition and should be treated differently as depression.

Perhaps not differently

But there is a distinct split somewhere.


I told this story in my other thread I think.

Years upon years ago I was home alone and feeling good. I honestly really was. I was feeling creative as I often do and I couldn't decide if I wanted to sketch or if I wanted to write. I opted for writing but just in case I changed my mind I grabbed a couple blank pages of computer paper to sketch on.

Paper on the desk and pen in hand I sat and thought about what I felt like writing. A fictionalized suicide note/will struck me as a good creative writing experience.

And so I sat there thinking about all I wanted to say
All I wanted to say and why
And why I wanted to give who what of my belongings
--of my very few belongings
--of my very few important belongings

And I sat there stairing at such a beautifully white page of paper that I really really wanted to write on when I realized that what I was about to write was a very legitimate suicide note.

Feelings don't matter
Emotions don't matter

Walk them off
Think of something different

Fuck--how long is it before someone for whom feelings are so consuming and the only things in life that provides them with some sort of identity comes to believe that they themselves do not matter? What importance do they have? How can they stand when the ground they stand on is of no significance?

How long before indifference
Becomes a coping mechanism.




My brain somehow came to justify how I was feeling by fabricating thoughts powerful enough to warp my perception. Creating a world with which I could exist in through manipulation of what I believed to be.

It's fucking magical.
Every feeling could be justified
I mean; I feel them for some reason so... fucking think of a reason. Who gives a fuck if the reason is real? And if the reason was the result of another person? All the fucking better.

Make them the reason.
And make them responsible for fixing your emotions.


Make them responsible for maintaining them.
 
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I eventually worked up the courage to contact my friend
I managed to see him once prior to his passing

It was around the time where things were still 50/50.


It was a difficult thing to do
Not because of the cancer thing
But because of the amount of time my brain had to convice me that he didn't like me. And it had reason to.

You see after some time back in the day I managed to build up the fortitude to ditch this po-dunk one horse town I now find myself living once again in.

He had already taken steps in his own direction. Poorly calculated steps. His restlessness to escape was getting the better of him. It was as if we were two horses. Both wild as fuck.

I
Kicking at the walls

He
At the fences

He was always able to escape
And this pissed me off

I wanted to so badly
But I was afraid

I envied his lack of fear
Not only did he have the balls to escape
He had the balls to socialize once out there

But by morning
There he would be
Corralled once again

Farmhands mending the split rail fence they thought capable enough to keep him in


He made it all look so easy
But for me it simply wasn't.

And he never noticed this.

So...





fuck him.
 
I eventually worked up the courage to contact my friend
I managed to see him once prior to his passing

It was around the time where things were still 50/50.


It was a difficult thing to do
Not because of the cancer thing
But because of the amount of time my brain had to convice me that he didn't like me. And it had reason to.

You see after some time back in the day I managed to build up the fortitude to ditch this po-dunk one horse town I now find myself living once again in.

He had already taken steps in his own direction. Poorly calculated steps. His restlessness to escape was getting the better of him. It was as if we were two horses. Both wild as fuck.

I
Kicking at the walls

He
At the fences

He was always able to escape
And this pissed me off

I wanted to so badly
But I was afraid

I envied his lack of fear
Not only did he have the balls to escape
He had the balls to socialize once out there

But by morning
There he would be
Corralled once again

Farmhands mending the split rail fence they thought capable enough to keep him in


He made it all look so easy
But for me it simply wasn't.

And he never noticed this.

So...





fuck him.
They said my Dad committed suicide to cover up an OSHA violation. He was not exactly the type. Millions of dollars make people quiet. True Story. Thus was in April.
 
I find myself having lost interest to continue on with any of this for the time being.

Perhaps it will be found once more during the early hours of tomorrow morning.
Perhaps it'll never be found again.
 
I find myself having lost interest to continue on with any of this for the time being.

Perhaps it will be found once more during the early hours of tomorrow morning.
Perhaps it'll never be found again.
Ok. I hope I didn't upset you more. I shouldn't have spoken.
 
Ok. I hope I didn't upset you more. I shouldn't have spoken.

I am sorry to learn of the loss of your father
I cannot imagine how the possibility of foul play exacerbates the feelings of such loss.

I appreciate that you shared with me what you did just as I appreciate the concern that you shouldn't have.

I wish to assure you that your post did not did not upset me. Nor did it serve to facilitate my immediate loss of interest or emotionally exhaust me to the point of not wishing to continue on.
 
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