Here is my ticket to the world. I cant wait.
March 2006 Archives
Throw in some buck shoot and old people for target practice why don't you.
Image from the TheSmokingGun.com
This is little Mikey. We still sleep together, kind of. He makes his way into my bed just about every night, sometimes for a second in thought, even from as far and obscure place as that of a once before closet experience. He has one big eye, appropriately so, because he believes himself to be all knowing, even when he’s wrong which he often is.
It’s that doubt, the not really knowing but wanting to believe and have our way struggle that binds us. It is the what-if-I-were-wrong factor, the high-roll gamble of our hearts. And of course all the nights we slept together. We can’t deny the carnal addictive safety blanket like filth of sharing beds. Nothing compares to emotional self assurance like knowing someone else isn’t really bothered by the pool of drool you’ve left behind. Nothing like a cute swollen face and, well you know, in the morning.
Little Mikey, if only you ceased to be a polyester-cotton mix, grew two eyes, making you less myopic, a better dreamer, much less doubtful, lost the devilish horns which match that wicked, sarcastic, and loved forked tongue of yours and those little feet that always turn cold and keep you from my grasp. Only then would I not mind all the room you take up in my bed. Where you, know damn well, belong.
“And you know that s/he’s half crazy
But that’s why you want to be there
And s/he feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell [her]
That you have no Love to give [her]
S/he gets you on [her] wavelength
And s/he lets the river answer
That you’ve always been [her] lover”
(exerpt) -Suzanne……by…..Leonard Cohen
That's what I'm "F"ing talking about!!!
Sumimasen team Nihon. Koko wa nihon ja arimasen. You are going down!
Update: 03/20/06, 9:51pm
Cuba finally gets to bat, first pitch, first hit, Homerun from Espinosa! I creamed my pants.
Update: 12:08am
Cepede hits a homer, Cuba 5 Japan 6 CUBA! CUBA! CUBA!
Update: 1am
Those raw fish eating bastards!!! Japan 10 Cuba 6......next year.
I finally made it home last night at around 1am from work. Putting key to lock is the final assurance that at last my day is complete and I get a little me-time even if is just 15min of silence. This is not of course counting my cat’s incessant botched attempts at language which I clearly understand as feed my already fat ass.
A fourteen hour day (not including travel) ain’t easy folks. I made about half as much in tips has I did last week, which was very disappointing. I guess I will not be buying myself any feels good trinkets this pay period. Well, I am exhausted and in need of some serious sleep. I should be able to get at least 5 hours before heading back to the fields in the morning.
They sat across from each other wearing colorful cotton pajamas and tang tops. They ate a homemade shrimp dinner which included steamed white rice from the Chinese takeout spot down the street while watching a sitcom on T.V. Every smile had meaning then, they were inseparable, or so they wanted to believe. Whenever they were left unsupervised they played games and incited arousal. His father walked in to the livingroom and they were interrupted, momentarily. The three of them sat and watched TV on the sofa together sharing laughs. His head was nestled comfortably on a shoulder as a silent affirmation of love.
During a commercial break, they each found excuses for which to be excused and found their way down stairs. Below, they found each other in a not so roomy closet were they feverishly kissed and undressed one another. He wrapped himself from behind, laced his arm under the armpit and cupped the back of the neck for leverage and theatrics.
Theatrics were always important to them and would help them in the future pretend to be fine, not in doubt, and even more regrettably, out of love. Not that day however. That day love guided them, united them and bound them to desire, which engulfed them in the heat of that humid out of reach closet, where they frantically slide into each other and bite down on fingers or shoulders to keep quiet. Beneath the heat of a 100 watt bulb, they simultaneously penetrated each other. One with his sex, both piercing the heart of the other whom never before, neither understood nor trusted, perhaps even now, notions of love, just another one of their many similarities.
It was there that they fucked one another, because it was clear that this was not something that they wanted to label love-making, love was implicit. This however, was effectively and purposefully, a matter of fuck. And so they did faster and harder, suckling on ear lobes and biting down fingers white, to contain the agitation of their organs and pierced hearts, a secret.
Afterwards, goose pimpled and breathing heavily amidst the scents of sweat, saliva, orgasm, humidity, and cigarettes, they held each other and laughed together as loud as they could without being heard or disclosing guilt. They rested their weight against the wall and shelving, easing the burden of their now weak knees, still inside, sharing pulses, laughs and familiar scents before ascending the steps, pretending nothing happened and catching up where they left off. It would become harder for them to do that in the future, catching up where they left behind, that is. They would learn, some would say conform, to no longer feel the need to share stares, laughs, pulses, and would learn to pierce the heart in a much different manner. They would learn to do without those things but continue to be quite good at pretending nothing happened.
