A See D See

She's overwrought with vengeance." Peter Rainer

The exertion it takes to masturbate outweighs the reward, but when time is taken to deal with a cunt as uncomfortable now as it was in my folly to ask Linda's advice on the matter, I scroll through a dreary set of scenes. A pallet mattress in a greyish flophouse where I am gang coaxed into masochistic submission, or go through a tie down in some stolen episodes from Japanese porn, with very little cognizance as to why Western men go for Asian women, although I find Indian men arousing and have a rape scene with my former cigarette vendor, infrequently, and exchanged Jim Brown for Bill Cosby in Joan's viral redeye scenario, or would have swapped Cosby for Brown had I remembered Brown was representative of black power in my era. Who, after all, wants to get raped by a thick lip flapper with a floating eye such as Cosby exhibits?

Black abuse of my person is the indelible stain, yet I have not taken my own life, unsure if it is sheer will or simply lethargy, perhaps both, but I will never again allow an African of either gender to lay a hand on me, ever.

Sometimes it's a whirlpool bath, or the married computer consultant's dick. He was kind to me. I called myself his whore, lacerating my soul over meaningless sex with a man whose wife cuckholded him and had a middle aged spastic's insistence. I almost had a fight with my mother's sister and would have had cellphone not served as a check. It isn't her fault she cannot see what institutionalization and her older sister's mental health has done to me. Like my own younger sister, she cannot see it, cannot deal with it, and that is most any audience, almost as indigent now as I was when I ran here because Jerry McGuire was an absence of presence. People attempted to tell me when I was that young that my compulsion to attach to his like was an obstinate distortion, but then again, I have never lived life with a full throttle investment. Not that I feel it any longer, his absence of presence. I've used up that little bit, and to be honest with you, I am irked SUNY contacted me about a no nothing reading I did in Pittsburgh. Not with them. Him. Still playing the teacher with his fucking encouragement. Christ man. I'm a cripple. Neither you, nor Michael, nor David ever talked to me about realistic career options.

You all taught me how to think. Bravo. Didn't stop me from being a vibrating pin cushion for every fucking imaginable threat out there. Even if I agree with blue blood liberals like Dana that McCulloch shielded Darren Wilson, I am glad that he did, which is the inverse of being relieved that Michael Brown is dead, but if you fuck with cops, then you can expect to become dead. I do not fuck with officers, and I can still expect, that one day I may die in their custody. Visions of how that plays out are as varied as the wind. 

Cleaned my coffee pot. Beet salad, lentil soup. If I could lose sixty pounds and get my teeth fixed, a fedora and a zoot suit would suit me just fine, and you can pass the cannoli on that. Plenty of hot coffee too.