spanish club music

as if my happiness depends solely on my sex life.

jesus.
what am i? a man?

did you know that men transfer testosterone in salivary exchange so that women get randy from a kiss.
evolution is a beautiful thing.

anywhoooo- i should get funny again this weekend.
my parents are coming to stay with me over the holiday.
holy xanax.

asian club music

let's explore the direct coorelation between my happiness and my humor.

happiness > humor > anger

if i am happy, i can not be funny. i think it's because most of my humor subsists on deprecation and disrespect. throw a monkey into the wrench who is intelligent and challenging, and i got nothing.

nothing but sappy poetry about running long hunter state park.

damn it.
i knew there were other reasons i stayed single.

how it ends

she threw the band in the cumberland because she knew that if she kept it, there'd be days that she'd consider pulling it from a drawer and fingering it in her left hand. the temptation of a regret that did not exist was too much to stash in a drawer. she decided to hide some other expectation in her mother's secretary.

she'd also wanted to know what it felt like to stop her jeep in the middle of a six lane bridge, abandon fear of traffic, and see her marriage drop to the river like november sweetgum leaves. not direct in descent, but moved by the temperament of wind.

it was january, and the platinum band fell fast while new year's traffic honked at her in her grey sweatpants on the side of a bridge. so far was the fall and so small was the ring, that she did not see it enter the water. for a moment she wondered if she should have pawned it and taken the money to buy something as frivolous as that promise.

the moment passed, and the wind pushed her toward the center lane, a driver's side door, and the knowing that she had other promises to keep.

the way i am

five miles on a saturday morning at 7:30 am. this is not when runners expect to be confronted by what we have no longer want. and 14th street is not the sanctuary where we ask the universe why it converges during our morning run.

or. why does god make the man i have wanted and the man i do want drive past me on the same morning run. wtf??? further proof that god hates me.

these ideas in our head like red hots in our mouths burn with a sick, metallic. and the taste doesn't leave the mouth. at a time when all normal people are sleeping, i am running. and the universe is driving.

i run from the anticipation of camping,
the inevitability of gala,
and the irony of my wedding dress.

yup.
it's makin a comeback.
thank god.
it's a beautiful bitch.
that needs to be seen.
when solitude is not an option.