Home
weather report   
11:08pm 24/08/2008
 
mood: tired
"Romance" is a terrible French movie that will make you want to burn your genitals off with LYE.

therefore, if you're already suffering from an abrupt dip in libido, it is a BAD CHOICE OF FILM FARE.



it poured today. when I looked outside and saw the sideways-slanting storm, all of my insides shut down, from throat to toes. going out for a cigarette only gave me leaky shoes and a sore throat.

rain drips into my brain and fills it full of dead leaves, old anxieties, remorse, sinus congestion. I don't want to dream of clogged gutters. I don't want to wake up damp and stiff, every joint aching from lack of use, a puddle of a thing shivering in a warm bed.		  
     Post
 
monkey   
04:44pm 18/08/2008
 
mood: lethargic
me, to my cat:

"how have you been all day? how was your day? what did you do today? UH-oh, did you knock this over? have you been monkeying around while I was at work? huh? have you? were you monkeying? are you a monkey? are you a little monkey? you've been monkeying, huh? yeah, you have, you little monkey. look at you. look at you. what a monkey. what a little monkey. you like that, huh, monkey? who's my little monkey? are YOU? are YOU the monkey? yeah, you ARE the monkey."


if anyone finds my dignity laying around somewhere, please pack it in ice so that maybe I can have it reattached.		  
     Read 6 - Post
 
heat wave   
08:22pm 15/08/2008
 
mood: pantpant
"no matter how hot it gets, I never have any desire to masturbate with a Popsicle."

"well, I imagine that would be a waste of a good fuck AND a good Popsicle."



it has taken me two weeks to watch "The Night Porter." there comes a time when you need to admit to yourself that this movie about angsted former Nazis in D/s relationships with power-hungry concentration camp survivors is just. not. worth it. even if she DID do that nice little song-and-dance number in suspenders, an SS beret, and elbow-length leather gloves.

god damn, my apartment is overheated. god damn.		  
     Post
 
and the crowd goes wild   
10:58am 15/08/2008
 
mood: grumpy
today, I am deeply occupied in pitching a perfect no-hitter.		  
     Read 1 - Post
 
some stuff   
12:37am 14/08/2008
 
mood: lazy
some things in my Google search history:

bindlestaff's cabins leavenworth
cable service
glbt scholarship
gyrokinesis
ivie league kennels
northgate target
olympics
sexy
shaun of the dead
tumbling mats


some things that turn me on:

Hellboy.
my new sheets.
8 solid hours of sleep.
my sweetie touching my collarbones, lower back, or inner elbow.
boots.
being grabbed by the throat.


some things I don't have to do tomorrow:

go to work early.
drive.
go grocery shopping, because I had the sense to do it a few days ago.


some things I have to do tomorrow:

bake snickerdoodles.
go to the lady doctor and feel embarrassed in spite of myself.
hug my cat.
go to the gym.
eat nutritious food and think at least four positive, beneficial thoughts. (give or take.)


some things I'll never be able to do:

stop listening to Journey, Prince, or Billy Joel.
vote Republican.
wear bikini bottoms.
eat slowly and mindfully, even when extremely hungry, instead of like a rabid hyena at a dinner party.


some thoughts I had today:

I want to have sex on a houseboat.
the sense of self-righteous validation we feel when we see an Olympic athlete screw up is one of the reasons that we as a species should never consider ourselves morally superior to any other animal.
being in a bar with someone you genuinely like can completely block out all the nasty input from all the rest of the bar's nasty patrons.
golf is a lot harder than it looks.
I love a clean bathtub.
I want to go swimming.
this tank top makes me sweat like a pig playing chess in a sauna.		  
     Read 5 - Post
 
just another night   
12:02am 09/08/2008
 
mood: amused
football announcers appear to be either A. terminally oblivious, or B. just plan not thinking, when they heedlessly say things like:

"we don't allow that kind of penetration here."
"Booty in the shotgun!" (because the Vikings actually really for real have a player named "Booty." I am so glad I'm not kidding.)

the Seahawks opened up a can of pre-season whoopass on the Vikings, and a whole bunch of really nice people kept telling me I was pretty. also, there was pound cake. it was a good night. I DESERVED a good night. we all do, really. fuck it. it's Friday.

tomorrow is Consecutive Workday #12 of 12. after that, it's the Birthday Party of Doom. wish me/Shaun good hunting. with any luck, I'll arrive home smothered in the praise of my fellow partygoers and sporting a few bruises and a silly grin.

Sunday is my day off. so unless you're planning on giving me lunch, a blowjob, or money, leave me the bloody hell alone.		  
     Read 2 - Post
 
f it   
09:57pm 07/08/2008
  you ever have one of those days where you



(ed. note: at this point in the text, the author appears to have passed out.)		  
     Post
 
today   
08:10pm 05/08/2008
 
mood: accomplished
today I went to Kent, and got a cricket bat

because I'm a fucking ninja.		  
     Read 8 - Post
 
last night   
10:42am 03/08/2008
 
mood: dirty
I dreamed of you last night. we were making out in my closet. you had me flattened against the back wall of it, and all my shirts were getting crushed. then my cousin Stacy came upstairs (in my dream, my apartment had transformed into a multi-level house) and caught us at it. she had grown to about six feet tall, and was wearing giant dominatrix spike heels, and towered over both of us, very stern and disapproving. she threatened to tell my mother what I was up to. we didn't care, though. we just kept climbing all over each other like horny high schoolers, waiting for my cousin Stacy to go away.

in real life,

1. my apartment is very small.
2. my cousin Stacy is only about 5'5". also, she doesn't have nearly the gumption necessary to take a stand against two people caught making out in a closet - she'd probably just stammer an apology and back out the door the way she came in.
3. if you were crushing my shirts, I'd make you stop whatever you were doing, because I don't have an iron and I hate wearing wrinkled clothes.

I guess all of this is just a long-winded way of saying I miss you.		  
     Post
 
stuff   
10:27pm 02/08/2008
 
mood: worn the f out
this is Day 5 of a 12-day workweek, and I've got to say, sometimes, putting on my pajama pants just feels so fucking liberating I can hardly stand it.

I have been thinking a lot about
COLLEGE
lately.
what will it look like? smell like? taste like? who will sit next to me in Fundamentals of Psychological Research? will I remember to eat lunch? will I remember to wear underwear? will I even have the time to do laundry frequently enough to ensure that there is always underwear available to wear?

my cat seems lonely. as soon as I get home, she roams around the house crying until I pick her up. then, after I've held her for only a few seconds, she looks down at my hands and very slowly, very deliberately bites them. if I try to adjust my grip on her, she goes into a full-scale biting, scratching frenzy. so I set her down, at which point she takes off like a shot and starts doing laps of the living room and bedroom, chirring to herself like a squirrel on amphetamines.

the more I think about this behavior, the more I realize that I've conducted most of my life behaving in a similar fashion, except without the chirring.



in unrelated news, my libido seems to be set on Atomic Death Horndog.		  
     Read 5 - Post
 
roll out the pie dough, Grandma   
04:44pm 29/07/2008
 
mood: bored
I have become suddenly, ludicrously excited about the Puyallup Fair. it doesn't actually occur for another month, but I'm already practically wetting myself with craft-makin', pie bakin', pig-oglin', scone-chompin' glee.

there is also a small possibility that I myself may be entering a recipe or two. I paged over the premium lists this afternoon - a lot of the contests in the Culinary Arts division are sponsored by various food product companies, giving rise to disturbing trials like the "Great American Spam Contest." (no lie. actual competition.)

I should hardly need to specify that I will NOT be baking anything with Spam in it this year. maybe next year. such things seem like they would need at LEAST a full year to plan.

in other news, it's raining. what a darn surprise. also, I need a cricket bat very badly, and can't find one. if I STILL haven't found one by this Sunday, I'm going to drive to Woodland with a large two-by-four and hold my father at sarcasm-point (I don't like to use guns) until he agrees to teach me how to use a table saw. I am not above creating a cheap cricket bat knockoff, if the city of Seattle is so hell-bent on ensuring that I do not obtain the real thing.

I'd have better chances of locating and purchasing a solid-gold, sentient iPhone with an open network connection to the CIA than I'm having finding this goddamn plank of wood with a handle on one end that looks awfully like a fraternity paddle.		  
     Read 7 - Post
 
come on mony   
03:27pm 28/07/2008
 
mood: tired
rampant resemblance to Billy Idol is a constant albatross around my blond-headed neck.		  
     Read 2 - Post
 
housecleaning   
01:06pm 25/07/2008
 
mood: cheerful
in preparation for my upcoming trip to the Cascades - where I plan to hike, ogle mountains, and get in touch with my inner Bavarian in Leavenworth - I cleaned out my digital camera's memory card, copying and deleting several compelling photographic compositions, as well as several that are not at all compelling.

I will now share them all with you, because I'm bored, and I'm on vacation, and my laundry isn't dry yet, so there's nothing else I need to do.

( look )		  
     Read 1 - Post
 
today's quest   
07:24pm 24/07/2008
 
mood: irate
what is your name?

Alex.

what is your quest?

to find better porn without having to pay for it.

I KNOW it's out there. it can't hide forever. this is the INTERNET, for Crissakes, and as Avenue Q taught most of us, the Internet is FOR porn. I feel like a dog in a kitchen right after Christmas dinner - I KNOW the food is all OVER the place, but it's all encased in Tupperware or plastic wrap or the refrigerator, and I can't get to any of it because I don't have opposable thumbs.

millions of people in millions of .wmv clips are having sex right now, as I TYPE, and I will never get to see it. most of that doesn't bother me one little bit, because most of it I have no interest in seeing - but that .01% of it that involves such things as gay punk boys or lesbians in army fatigues, I DO want to see, dammit, but I CAN'T FIND IT. it hides from me in some deep, dark Internet Porn Vault where Google cannot touch it.

all I ask is that it be free, hot, and not break my video card's brain.

is that too much?

apparently so.

what good is the Internet, anyway?		  
     Read 3 - Post
 
think tank   
09:16pm 20/07/2008
 
mood: calm
given the choice between life and death, I opted for a run in the park and pole-dancing on a playground to Nelly Furtado. (on my headphones, of course, so no one else knew what the hell I was up to.)

there has been a lot of trouble lately in this hollow head of mine, most of which does not bear discussion herein. I think, though, that one of the strong contributing factors to my mental strife has been that I have not been feeling sexy.

I believe this needs working on. so I'm typing in my underwear right now, and I think that I'll make a concerted effort to have sex at some point this week.

that's about all I really know how to do.

(well, that and pole dancing on playgrounds, which always helps a little.)		  
     Post
 
road trips   
10:23pm 16/07/2008
 
mood: melancholy
on the long, dull drive back to Seattle, I pretended to be a professional spaceship racer, and found myself amazed by how easily my life was reduced to a blur of blinking lights, white dotted lines, and flicking my eyes rapidly between my speedometer and the suspicious-acting black Suburban hovering in my blind spot.

now that I am home, I am very, very tired, and thinking that it is about time to reduce my life even further - to the simple act of laying down, closing my eyes, and pretending that I do not need to get up at 6:30 AM to attend an orientation of higher education.

I already know my orientation. I do not need yours.

good night.		  
     Read 1 - Post
 
miserlou   
09:47pm 10/07/2008
  there's a jazz band called the Little Willies. sweet.

hell week. week of hell. seeing Hellboy tomorrow should prove to be one of the least hellish things about my week. how ironic.

I seem to have a lot of Characters running around in my head. this is a little frustrating, because I don't have anywhere near the time it would take to actually do anything productive with them. all I can do is try to snag them by the ankle as they go by, and memorize their faces for later recall. I fail at this. the good news? there will ALWAYS be more Characters.

my distractedness is frustrating people whom I like, and that, in turn, frustrates ME, and I get more distracted, and then flustered, and less and less communicative until there is a TOTAL COMMUNICATION BREAKDOWN and I start stammering and flapping my hands and eventually just go somewhere else. this always feels like it should end a lot more dramatically than it ever does.

TOTAL COMMUNICATION BREAKDOWN always needs to be capitalized.

not hot and bothered, I am merely bothered. less spectacular. less sexy. less than perfect.		  
     Read 1 - Post
 
a block of text   
05:53pm 07/07/2008
 
mood: sleepy
I love heat. I love it when it's hot outside. I love to BE hot. I love to sweat. I love the feeling of my face flushing when I walk down the street. I love the desperate craving I get for something, ANYTHING cool on my tongue and running down my throat. I love the way that when I DO put that cool thing in my mouth, I can practically feel my mouth sizzle, like pouring ice water on a hot frying pan. I love cold showers that actually feel GOOD. I love knowing that I'm wearing as little clothing as I can possibly wear in a public situation, and still feeling like I'm overdressed for the weather. I love throwing my covers off at night and feeling the air wrap around me in their place. I love warm rain - a shower that you never have to cut short for fear of wasting water. I love feeling like a complete freak when I tell people who are panting and sweating and swearing and locking their doors and windows and cranking up the AC how much I wish I could be outside right now instead of inside the vile, fake-cool prison cell that whatever room or building we're in seems to have become. And when the heat finally becomes too much for me to stand, I love drenching myself with a deluge of water, feeling the heat subside, feeling sated, delicious, dripping, and then feeling it creep steadily back into my bones, insidious and companionable, and waiting for the right moment for the next gush of relief.

I LOVE heat. I love it when it's hot outside.		  
     Read 4 - Post
 
parties in our pants   
08:56pm 30/06/2008
  if perchance anyone comes upon good-quality photos of me and Monk in the parade, please forward them on to one or both of us.

because we're vain like that.

 
     Read 1 - Post
 
we are family   
10:04pm 29/06/2008
 
mood: satisfied
despite myself, I had a fantastic time running amok in the Pride parade. I even had a barking match with a Boston terrier. and may I just say, whichever parade-goer's idea it was to bring that set up the little kiddie fountain that was spraying a mist of cool, clear, life-giving water right onto the leather-clad, sweat-dripping parade marchers - YOU, my friend, are Jesus's very favorite gay.

ten hours later, it's still hot enough that the idea of being sprayed down with a deluge of cool, clear, life-giving water is awfully damned appealing. maybe I should just go run around outside in my Spider-Man boxer shorts. the neighbors wouldn't mind. IT'S PRIDE! HAPPY PRIDE!

that said, all the sweaty people dancing in poorly-ventilated, jam-packed clubs right now are off their gay rockers.

everything's gone very quiet all of a sudden. a car door slamming, a shivery gust of wind, the muffled rush of cars on 23rd Avenue - tiny thunderclaps, each one, keeping me company on a hot, solitary night.		  
     Read 3 - Post
 
 
aisteach
 
 
skip