January
The woman next to me comes every day. Her husband is a lawyer. She wants
to be out of the house. Manages several stock profiles. Or Frenchy with
his mohawk. What tribe the Floridian asked him. Somehow they have a conversation.
Sometimes in the mirror I realize I am not and must. After all this was
at a car museum. Be all you. How much I hate him is so big is palpable
and the girl says I wish you loved in separate houses. Sometimes I worry
about arthritis. Will I be able to masturbate with my left hand when the
right. Some people without arms have learned to paint and drive a car.
a birth month. Post holiday brouhaha. Into the blank winter.
She has the body of a young boy. Separately we’re good and happy,
but together. One porn queen turned director/producer desires to create
to jerk off to. No couples and candles things. She dismembers via the
two truck drivers her best friend in a rape flick. The first on-screen
might be worth a cool two. Girl girl. Flicker tongue, flip and flick.
It is a chance to make up for all. It works for me, so it’s ok.
Once it was like shooting up. His cock in my ass slowed everything down
to a snail’s pace. My pleasure was his taffy. Rats proliferate and
noisily enter for dog treats. There is an unfinished play called criminal
conversation. Someone’s notes say so. The door is open still and
chancy.
In-your-face-action is up front. The stuff they want to put in your brain
is clandestine and visual auditory sensory information but also words
are to be distrusted. To move without trust for a single hour and then
work up to a day. A training camp for the hopeful. If this can be gotten
through there is nothing I can’t take. Do an Ali with Foreman at
the ropes and just wait it out. One breath at a time. You can condition
your body for that. It’s all a matter of training. Some stitches
hurt coming out. Academics want you to shower daily and play by the rules.
Saris and punjabi pants are ideal for squatting and elimination.
The first on-screen memory is something about humiliation. Ugly shoes
for corrupt feet that need restructuring or the failure of potty training
in kindergarten. Iambic pentameter. The sound of it falling to the floor.
Some people are born with it. Where we go from here when we are told stories
are interesting but the source is biochemical and pre-existed any trauma.
Narrative as we knew it is a ghost in our cabinets. A haunting. One guy
asserted he had no ambivalence.
The exact number of minutes divided by the heart rate reveals an immediate
effect. No time was lost.
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