Saturday, May 29, 2004

Old Feelings

So I found this journal entry that I did on June 9, 2003. I thought it was kind of funny. I don't remember writing it, but I don't remember my name most days. I was dating Anna Nicole at that time. I changed the name to protect Anna's true identity. Otherwise it is unmodified. Here it is.

So basically, it is 1:30am. I am unable to sleep at all for some reason. Anna Nicole is in bed now. I was lying in bed next to him, holding his dick, when it hit me, I want to write. It is really unusual for me to randomly decide to write. Normally, I only do so when I am in one of my "self pity life sucks I want to die" moods. Granted that is pretty often, but that is not the point. I was just thinking about nothing and everything and decided why not. So here I am. 1:30am sitting here typing away about absolutely nothing. What was I going to talk about? I forget now. I'll just start clean.

So I was in bed with Anna Nicole holding his dick and trying to fall asleep. I think he was in "the mood". He probably was. Well, he probably still is, but I am not really up for it tonight. It is not at all that I am not into him or anything, mind you, I just cannot stop thinking. We have been together almost a year now, and I am still attracted to him and am still completely in love with him, but I just don't want to fuck. Why do I keep mentioning that? Well mainly it is because I am a twenty-one year old queer who is supposed to be in his prime. I mean, according to all the stereotypes I should be getting plugged through every orifice my body has to offer. What is wrong with me then? I am sure it is nothing. I am just over bodies. I do not expect that to make any sense at all, but it is true. I am completely over bodies, both male and female. They are so awkward. I mean just mounds of flesh heaped together with lard, blood, mucus, spider veins, obscene noises and smells, and lets not forget hair. Fur covering every square inch of the body like we are preparing for the next Ice Age. It makes no sense. I recently started going to the gym with Anna Nicole, because I wanted to build the perfect Adonis physique. It was the gym that brought me to the realization that I hate the human body. All the smells of the sweating ogres as they screech out in victory while lifting two or three times their weight over their heads. I do not see its relevance. It is not bringing about world peace in any way. Not often do you see a gas station attendant being held at gunpoint by a crack addicted barbell. You lifted a barbell over your head! Hooray! All is right in the world once more. I do not know what I am talking about. I just think it is ridiculous. Yet I am attempting to join their masses. Ah, to be gay.

As far as the penis is concerned, it is nothing more than a glorified tail. Women get a second ass. Neither gender is better off. The woman gets to bleed on a monthly basis. The man gets to walk around with a flapping piece of meat between his legs. Women get labor pains. Men have kidney stones and swift kicks to the balls. It is a lose/lose situation. The only way out of it is to be a eunuch. Eunuchs don't have it easy either. They go all flabby, sweat more, and go numb to the world. I mean being a person just really sucks ass. Sure we can appreciate beauty, knowledge, and the joys of the apposable thumb, but is it really worth it? I appreciate beauty, but in weird ways. I love the beauty in nature. I think everything is, in fact, beautiful in it's own way. Although that passes very quickly when I think about other aspects of whatever it is that I might, at any given time, be admiring. If it is a beautiful woman in a magazine, I cannot help but think of her in her normal day-to-day activities. Flatulating in the bathtub while shaving her stubble-ridden legs. Puking after every meal and being careful to make sure that there is no vomitus spittle drooling down her chin. Following her lapdog around with a pooper scooper making sure she picks up every piece of digested Kibbles n Bits it squeezes out of its overly pampered sphincter. Thoughts such as these always tend to ruin my view of anyone and everyone I come into contact with. Not that I am obsessed with bowel movements or the grotesque by any means, I just always think about how truly disgusting everyone is, cover model or not.

Sex is a rather nauseating act too if you really think about it. If it is any form of oral sex where the woman is the receiver, the man or woman who is lapping up the gina juice is getting blood, eggs, and urine along with the deal. I will not even get into what you are dining on if she actually cums. If a guy is receiving from a woman or another man, you are sucking on his piss pipe in the hopes that he will soon spray you down in a shower of his unborn children. I will most definitely not go into what all you get to eat if he has been fucking prior to the slurpfest. I just think it is projectile vomit enducing. I do enjoy sex, but I have to be "into" it at all times. As soon as my attention is lost for one second and I am given a chance to REALLY think about what is going on, I am over it. Time for a Clorox bath and gargle. Do you spit or swallow?

I am not trying to be crude. Maybe I am trying a little, but I am being honest. People are so extremely into the outside appearance that they often times forget about all the really important things. What does it matter if you have a body that was chiseled from a slab of marble if your intelligence is on the same level as that very slab? I watched these two guys at the gym a couple of days ago. Obviously they were together in a "Beautiful Thing" sort of way. The brainless jock stood working out, grunting and glancing around to see if anyone noticed him. His bitch, the hopeless fake blond bombshell, leaned hustlerstyle against some random gym equipment and played with his fingernails, probably picking jizz and sphincter crust from under them. Poor little hustler looked like he might actually be somewhat intelligent other than the fact that he got stuck playing the role of lapdog for the brainless wonder. It made me think of Rocky Horror and Dr. Frankenfurter only with Dr. Frankenfurter trapped in Dexter's ("Dexter's Laboratory") body. You could tell he was not enjoying himself. Their conversation at home probably consists of, "Do you like looking at me more like this or like this?" as marble boy switched poses for the 40th time. Maybe that is good for other people. If so, more power to ya. I just need substance. Preferrably brainmass.

I am really not sure what has caused me to go off on a mindless rant about people. I just felt it needed to be said. What better time than at 1:30am just after trying to sleep while holding the love of your life's dick?

Later Consuela!

Wednesday, May 26, 2004


Finally have internet access again. As I have been moving all frappin day and it is now 5:30am and I am deliriously sleepy, I'll just write later.

Have internet. Sleepy. Write later.

Later Consuela...zZz...