I rest among the clouds.
Seeing life from a distance
Makes it a farce of the human condition
I gather the stars
Weave a blanket of dreams
I bend and twist time
Detached from this world
Altered perceptions
Fantastic and vivid
Idyllic fields of the greenest grass grow
In my heart, my mind, my soul
With my feet trapped in captivity
My imagination running free
I hunger for a glimpse
Of felicity unbridled
By the crushing truth of reality
The angry cry out
And the hurting moan
Consumed with the longing
For a happy home
That won't exist
Without making their own
So hold to your laughter
Cause bliss is ephemeral
Evaporating quick
Like the breath from my lips
Emanating....
Just escaping
Higher, higher, high
Like the earnest wishes
On first stars
In the night sky
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
demands and revelations in first person.
I want your attention.
I do not want you.
I want your admiration.
I will never trust you.
I will deal only absolutes.
I will absolutely take.
I will never give more than the minimum.
I will never believe you when you call me beautiful.
I will keep you on the backburner until you ignore me.
I will put you on a pedestal when you don't love me.
I am a product of my generation.
I want everything I cannot have.
I hate myself more than anyone I know.
I will keep destroying myself.
I will always be drunk when you call.
I will always be high when I need to be sober.
I will fuck some loser instead of you.
I will never let you touch me.
I will always enjoy torturing those foolish enough to love me.
And I will always, always, always be alone.
I do not want you.
I want your admiration.
I will never trust you.
I will deal only absolutes.
I will absolutely take.
I will never give more than the minimum.
I will never believe you when you call me beautiful.
I will keep you on the backburner until you ignore me.
I will put you on a pedestal when you don't love me.
I am a product of my generation.
I want everything I cannot have.
I hate myself more than anyone I know.
I will keep destroying myself.
I will always be drunk when you call.
I will always be high when I need to be sober.
I will fuck some loser instead of you.
I will never let you touch me.
I will always enjoy torturing those foolish enough to love me.
And I will always, always, always be alone.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Editorial Game.
This is something vastly different from anything I've ever done on the blog or probably ever will do, but I put a lot of work into it, so I'm going to post it here anyway.
Originally I was going to do Clueless, but that's such a style icon already and what fun is that?
So I decided to go with the cake scene from Matilda.
......Here's The Trunchbull and Bruce Bogtrotter:
For Agatha Trunchbull I chose Rianne ten Haken and gave her a military-inspired look with matte red lips (the standard bluish-hued MAC Russian Red) and polished cat-eye liner (Dior Style Liner in Noir Black). PS--I LOVE THIS BALMAIN COAT. I didn't include the riding crop, but obviously it would make an apperance haha. Hair pulled back in a sleek bun.
For Bruce Bogtrotter I chose Simon Nessman and kind of went with a similar look, just a bit more updated. I didn't show any makeup, but aside from normal face makeup I wouldn't add much more than a soft wash on the lips and cheeks with TheBalm's Staniac in Beauty Queen. I'd keep Nessman's lovely curls in tact (the reason why I chose him in the first place) and maybe just put a bit of smoothing balm?
Even though you only see Matilda and Lavender for a split second, I still wanted to re-style them so I did:
For Lavender I chose Sessilee Lopez. I really love the floral dress Lavender wears so I went with a similar theme, again just updated with some Lanvin boots and gold lame leggings. I also really like the new Bobbi Brown Denim & Rose collection and thought that would be a perfect palette to compliment the oh-so-90s grunge floral dress look. For lips, stain YSL Rouge Volupte in Provocative Pink and layer with clear MAC Lipglass. For hair, something like this.
For Matilda I chose Agyness Deyn. Matilda actually wears a blue dress with peter pan collar shirt underneath, but I prefer her with overalls. Haha. Paired with yellow chuck taylors and of course, the signature hair ribbon (re-done this time by Tarina Tarantino). The hair would be like this only brown. Agyness Deyn with long, brown hair? Why yes, I did. The makeup again is simplistic because they're emulating little girls. I went for the nudes in Diors's 5-color palette in No. 030 Diaphane/Nude and Benefit's Silky Finish lipstick in Ms. Behavin (which is the same shade Edward Cullen dons in the Twilight series).
Instead of indoors onstage, I thought it would be cool to do an outdoors amphitheater similar to this one.
To shoot, I'd get Anne Geddes. I love her work and she always manages to bring out the best in her subject matter. HAHAHA. Okay, jk.
I like the edgy look that Taki Bibelas is really good at portraying and he's already worked with at least Simon Nessman.
See his portfolio here.
You were just asked by V magazine to guest style an editorial based on your favorite film.
CHOOSE EVERYTHING, INCLUDING CHOICE OF MODELS, MAKE UP AND HAIR, CLOTHES, SETTING, PHOTOGRAPHER, ETC.
All based on a scene from your favorite movie.
Originally I was going to do Clueless, but that's such a style icon already and what fun is that?
So I decided to go with the cake scene from Matilda.
......Here's The Trunchbull and Bruce Bogtrotter:
For Agatha Trunchbull I chose Rianne ten Haken and gave her a military-inspired look with matte red lips (the standard bluish-hued MAC Russian Red) and polished cat-eye liner (Dior Style Liner in Noir Black). PS--I LOVE THIS BALMAIN COAT. I didn't include the riding crop, but obviously it would make an apperance haha. Hair pulled back in a sleek bun.
For Bruce Bogtrotter I chose Simon Nessman and kind of went with a similar look, just a bit more updated. I didn't show any makeup, but aside from normal face makeup I wouldn't add much more than a soft wash on the lips and cheeks with TheBalm's Staniac in Beauty Queen. I'd keep Nessman's lovely curls in tact (the reason why I chose him in the first place) and maybe just put a bit of smoothing balm?
Even though you only see Matilda and Lavender for a split second, I still wanted to re-style them so I did:
For Lavender I chose Sessilee Lopez. I really love the floral dress Lavender wears so I went with a similar theme, again just updated with some Lanvin boots and gold lame leggings. I also really like the new Bobbi Brown Denim & Rose collection and thought that would be a perfect palette to compliment the oh-so-90s grunge floral dress look. For lips, stain YSL Rouge Volupte in Provocative Pink and layer with clear MAC Lipglass. For hair, something like this.
For Matilda I chose Agyness Deyn. Matilda actually wears a blue dress with peter pan collar shirt underneath, but I prefer her with overalls. Haha. Paired with yellow chuck taylors and of course, the signature hair ribbon (re-done this time by Tarina Tarantino). The hair would be like this only brown. Agyness Deyn with long, brown hair? Why yes, I did. The makeup again is simplistic because they're emulating little girls. I went for the nudes in Diors's 5-color palette in No. 030 Diaphane/Nude and Benefit's Silky Finish lipstick in Ms. Behavin (which is the same shade Edward Cullen dons in the Twilight series).
Instead of indoors onstage, I thought it would be cool to do an outdoors amphitheater similar to this one.
To shoot, I'd get Anne Geddes. I love her work and she always manages to bring out the best in her subject matter. HAHAHA. Okay, jk.
I like the edgy look that Taki Bibelas is really good at portraying and he's already worked with at least Simon Nessman.
See his portfolio here.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
A Change of Direction
I spend a lot of time in my head. My curiosity is pretty lazy though. I'm much more interested in possibilities than realities. Every now and then I begin to wonder if I'm starting to go crazy or am I just terribly bored. In any case, wondering is something I do a lot of. A few weeks ago, I found a diary I wrote a few entries in when I was about 14. The thoughts spelled out from my younger self were shocking. Though I've certainly gained more experience, I am no less obsessed with sex than I was when it completely eluded me. And it seems the more I learn, the less I know.
So a good chunk of my thoughts are centered on sex. I've imagined having sex with most of my friends more than once. In school I fantasized about my teachers. All of them. Especially the unattractive ones. I tried to guess who was into the weird shit and what they looked like when they did it. I try to picture strangers on the street naked, try to predict the location and appearance of every fold, dimple, sag. I wonder if older people have better sex, if I only improve with experience or eventually plateau. I wonder if anyone ever imagines my naked imperfections or if they'd enjoy having sex with me.
I put pictures of my genitals on the internet. I feel no attachment to the images themselves, I just like to conjure up stories of the kind of people who would masturbate to them. Photos whose cropping amputated my body until all that is left equates to little more than two-dimensional sex toys. They are always men. Older guys. They always do it in the dark, too. Oscar Wilde once wrote that illusion is the first of all pleasures and these men were living proof. Scenarios would begin to form as they filled in the rest of the pictures. Maybe they touched themselves, hard through their jeans as they imagined sucking on hard nipples or brushing their hand against a bare, hairless vulva. Did they think back to their younger selves, that they could experience a girl demand she be allowed to humour their every fancy?
It's safe.
Exposed without fear of rejection.
Transient connections as intense and artificial as they are brief. I ignore attempts to engage me in conversation. I'm not sure I could express any preference for Bernini over Michelangelo to a person who could recognize my swollen clitoris before even seeing my eyes. This isn't about love. Like a skilled magician, my expertise is little more than smoke and mirrors. One delusion traded for another.
Despite the notion that fucking and all it encompasses will always consume me, I wonder about all sorts of things. Sometimes I disgust myself. I do it on purpose. I imagine the most horrible things possible because I want to know how dark my thoughts can get. I'm not sure why I do it. Perhaps I want to quantify these thoughts, maybe I want to mourn a loss of innocence. Either way it leaves no question as to how I could be so jaded.
Today I change the purpose of my blog. I have decided to write not only what I do, but what I think about, what I imagine. I will make no distinction between them.
So a good chunk of my thoughts are centered on sex. I've imagined having sex with most of my friends more than once. In school I fantasized about my teachers. All of them. Especially the unattractive ones. I tried to guess who was into the weird shit and what they looked like when they did it. I try to picture strangers on the street naked, try to predict the location and appearance of every fold, dimple, sag. I wonder if older people have better sex, if I only improve with experience or eventually plateau. I wonder if anyone ever imagines my naked imperfections or if they'd enjoy having sex with me.
I put pictures of my genitals on the internet. I feel no attachment to the images themselves, I just like to conjure up stories of the kind of people who would masturbate to them. Photos whose cropping amputated my body until all that is left equates to little more than two-dimensional sex toys. They are always men. Older guys. They always do it in the dark, too. Oscar Wilde once wrote that illusion is the first of all pleasures and these men were living proof. Scenarios would begin to form as they filled in the rest of the pictures. Maybe they touched themselves, hard through their jeans as they imagined sucking on hard nipples or brushing their hand against a bare, hairless vulva. Did they think back to their younger selves, that they could experience a girl demand she be allowed to humour their every fancy?
It's safe.
Exposed without fear of rejection.
Transient connections as intense and artificial as they are brief. I ignore attempts to engage me in conversation. I'm not sure I could express any preference for Bernini over Michelangelo to a person who could recognize my swollen clitoris before even seeing my eyes. This isn't about love. Like a skilled magician, my expertise is little more than smoke and mirrors. One delusion traded for another.
Despite the notion that fucking and all it encompasses will always consume me, I wonder about all sorts of things. Sometimes I disgust myself. I do it on purpose. I imagine the most horrible things possible because I want to know how dark my thoughts can get. I'm not sure why I do it. Perhaps I want to quantify these thoughts, maybe I want to mourn a loss of innocence. Either way it leaves no question as to how I could be so jaded.
Today I change the purpose of my blog. I have decided to write not only what I do, but what I think about, what I imagine. I will make no distinction between them.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Dorm Sex
It was my second semester of college. I'd already done as much as I could to build up a reputation as a pothead, an alcoholic, maybe even a slut. Not intentionally, mind you. I'd been approached only a month before by one of the more lax resident assistants to go get high.
Now that same RA was asking if my friend Vance would buy the 3 of us some 40s. He agreed and once the contraband had been procured and safely stored in the RAs room, we began drinking and listening to music. Half way through the second 40oz and our filters were off. We began watching porn and showing each other our favorite porn stars.
Then came the drunk texting.
I don't know if the cloud of testosterone that overtook the room got to my head, I don't know what it was that I was trying to prove, but I felt the insatiable need to get laid. And I knew just who to call upon. We met only the week before. After drunken makeouts and confessions of, "I think you're hot," I fellated him in the backseat of his BMW.
In retrospect it's hard to remember what exactly had convinced him to come over, probably some explicit review of the things that awaited him.
"I have to go!" I squealed to Vance and the RA.
"Where are you going?" the RA asked.
"To get laidddddddd, suckahhhh," I replied with zeal.
I made my bed quickly and found a condom. I suddenly heard a knock on the door. I grabbed my cell phone and texted my roommate, "I need the room for a bit. Text you when I'm done."
He surveyed my room and focused on the array of books scattered across my desk. His eyes zeroed in on a Player's Handbook I had for Dungeons and Dragons. "Oh, you play D&D! I have a chara..." he started.
"I didn't say I wanted to talk, Brody. Take off your pants and get on the bed."
"Oh, uhh, okay."
I straddled him. "Is it okay if I tie you up?" I asked.
"Yeah, umm, I guess so," he answered timidly.
I unzipped his pants, slid them down and began fellating him as I'd done once before. Suddenly I felt not only his penis in my mouth, but my own vomit. Part of me was disgusted, but the desire to continue was overwhelming. I swallowed it and continued.
A few minutes and once his penis was fully erect, I put on the condom and assumed the position (reverse cowgirl style) and began to gyrate my hips. He thrust his own forward until I made him stop. I wanted complete control of the situation. He was moaning.
He came and I untied him. He thrust his fingers into me and I directed his every action until I could no longer speak.
Half an hour later he was coming to orgasm a second time, "Oh shit," he said, "I think I got a little bit on your wall."
I pulled my skirt back down, showed him downstairs and ran back to greet the RA sitting on a couch in his hallway. "Guess who just got laid!" I sang while thrusting my hips forward suggestively.
"But you're a girl!" he protests, "It's easy for you!!!"
"You look like you could use a cigarette," a voice says from behind me. It's Liam and he's wearing a sly grin on his face.
"Yeah, actually. That'd be great."
We went outside and I was beginning to sober up from the night's activity. I was suddenly very aware of the rain falling on the awning above us, the silvery dance of smoke emanating from our lips, the dull, satifying ache between my legs.
Liam finally spoke after a few drags off of his cigarette, "Did you take that purity test everyone's been doing?"
"Yeah," I said, "I think I scored like a 46."
"You know," he smirked, "I got a 22. I'd be willing to help lower your score."
I surveyed my surroundings, taking into account possible things that were on the quiz that I had yet to do. "Well," I replied, "I've never had sex with 2 different people in one night, I've never had sex outside, or in public, or in the rain."
"Yeah?" he ventured. He put out his cigarette, "I'm in room D222."
I went to my own room and passed out. I woke up with a hangover.
Originally posted on La Ciudad Que No Puede Dormir
Now that same RA was asking if my friend Vance would buy the 3 of us some 40s. He agreed and once the contraband had been procured and safely stored in the RAs room, we began drinking and listening to music. Half way through the second 40oz and our filters were off. We began watching porn and showing each other our favorite porn stars.
Then came the drunk texting.
I don't know if the cloud of testosterone that overtook the room got to my head, I don't know what it was that I was trying to prove, but I felt the insatiable need to get laid. And I knew just who to call upon. We met only the week before. After drunken makeouts and confessions of, "I think you're hot," I fellated him in the backseat of his BMW.
In retrospect it's hard to remember what exactly had convinced him to come over, probably some explicit review of the things that awaited him.
"I have to go!" I squealed to Vance and the RA.
"Where are you going?" the RA asked.
"To get laidddddddd, suckahhhh," I replied with zeal.
I made my bed quickly and found a condom. I suddenly heard a knock on the door. I grabbed my cell phone and texted my roommate, "I need the room for a bit. Text you when I'm done."
He surveyed my room and focused on the array of books scattered across my desk. His eyes zeroed in on a Player's Handbook I had for Dungeons and Dragons. "Oh, you play D&D! I have a chara..." he started.
"I didn't say I wanted to talk, Brody. Take off your pants and get on the bed."
"Oh, uhh, okay."
I straddled him. "Is it okay if I tie you up?" I asked.
"Yeah, umm, I guess so," he answered timidly.
I unzipped his pants, slid them down and began fellating him as I'd done once before. Suddenly I felt not only his penis in my mouth, but my own vomit. Part of me was disgusted, but the desire to continue was overwhelming. I swallowed it and continued.
A few minutes and once his penis was fully erect, I put on the condom and assumed the position (reverse cowgirl style) and began to gyrate my hips. He thrust his own forward until I made him stop. I wanted complete control of the situation. He was moaning.
He came and I untied him. He thrust his fingers into me and I directed his every action until I could no longer speak.
Half an hour later he was coming to orgasm a second time, "Oh shit," he said, "I think I got a little bit on your wall."
I pulled my skirt back down, showed him downstairs and ran back to greet the RA sitting on a couch in his hallway. "Guess who just got laid!" I sang while thrusting my hips forward suggestively.
"But you're a girl!" he protests, "It's easy for you!!!"
"You look like you could use a cigarette," a voice says from behind me. It's Liam and he's wearing a sly grin on his face.
"Yeah, actually. That'd be great."
We went outside and I was beginning to sober up from the night's activity. I was suddenly very aware of the rain falling on the awning above us, the silvery dance of smoke emanating from our lips, the dull, satifying ache between my legs.
Liam finally spoke after a few drags off of his cigarette, "Did you take that purity test everyone's been doing?"
"Yeah," I said, "I think I scored like a 46."
"You know," he smirked, "I got a 22. I'd be willing to help lower your score."
I surveyed my surroundings, taking into account possible things that were on the quiz that I had yet to do. "Well," I replied, "I've never had sex with 2 different people in one night, I've never had sex outside, or in public, or in the rain."
"Yeah?" he ventured. He put out his cigarette, "I'm in room D222."
I went to my own room and passed out. I woke up with a hangover.
Originally posted on La Ciudad Que No Puede Dormir
Monday, June 7, 2010
Modern Poetry.
I realize more and more as I fuck along my existence that sex is poetry between bodies.
Every interaction I have is beautiful. It means something.
Even if it only means that something for two minutes.
Every interaction I have is beautiful. It means something.
Even if it only means that something for two minutes.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Only Girl I've Ever Fucked
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
Except her face wasn't all that pretty
But she had these excellent tits
And an okay ass
And she let me feel her up in public
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
And when she wasn't paying attention
I put my finger in her butt
She pretended to freak out
But I know she liked it
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
And she told all my friends
How much she liked when I went down on her
And how she thinks she's bisexual
But she doesn't know what she wants
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
It was trashy and unromantic
She knows that I love her
We're just not ready to be together
And she says that it's okay
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
And her parents can never find out
Or the girls in her sorority
That's just not how she was raised
And I think that's okay
Except her face wasn't all that pretty
But she had these excellent tits
And an okay ass
And she let me feel her up in public
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
And when she wasn't paying attention
I put my finger in her butt
She pretended to freak out
But I know she liked it
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
And she told all my friends
How much she liked when I went down on her
And how she thinks she's bisexual
But she doesn't know what she wants
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
It was trashy and unromantic
She knows that I love her
We're just not ready to be together
And she says that it's okay
I had sex with the most beautiful girl I know
And her parents can never find out
Or the girls in her sorority
That's just not how she was raised
And I think that's okay
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Suicide Girls
I know I've established my purpose as detailing (bragging) about my sexual conquests and exploits, but I have taken my second dose of a certain stimulant ever in my life and tonight is my first real experience.
Not to be too specific, but today is a very important day in my life and that of my family's so a relative of mine and myself decided to stretch beyond our normal comfort zones to make tonight's celebration above and beyond standard celebratory routine.
Of course I'm referring to cocaine.
I am on top of the world. Sure, you can try to imagine what that might feel like, but until you've done cocaine you never really know.
I am the happiest I can ever remember being.
I know that my life isn't the greatest, and for the first time in years I don't feel like offing myself.
I'm not trying to figure out how I will buy 400 diphenhydramine pills and take them without anyone knowing or without throwing them up before I die.
Not tonight.
Tonight I have won the lottery. Tonight I am the sexiest woman alive. Tonight I know the meaning of existence.
And I hope to whatever-will-keep-me-away-from-coming-down that I fall asleep before this feeling fades.
Not to be too specific, but today is a very important day in my life and that of my family's so a relative of mine and myself decided to stretch beyond our normal comfort zones to make tonight's celebration above and beyond standard celebratory routine.
Of course I'm referring to cocaine.
I am on top of the world. Sure, you can try to imagine what that might feel like, but until you've done cocaine you never really know.
I am the happiest I can ever remember being.
I know that my life isn't the greatest, and for the first time in years I don't feel like offing myself.
I'm not trying to figure out how I will buy 400 diphenhydramine pills and take them without anyone knowing or without throwing them up before I die.
Not tonight.
Tonight I have won the lottery. Tonight I am the sexiest woman alive. Tonight I know the meaning of existence.
And I hope to whatever-will-keep-me-away-from-coming-down that I fall asleep before this feeling fades.
Friday, March 12, 2010
California (Or How I Actually Lost My Virginity)
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Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Don't Fuck My Friends (or How I Thought I Lost My Virginity)
It was the last week in November of my freshman year of college. We'd only just got back from break and already I was dying of boredom. I lay on Cliff's bed and stared at his ceiling as he sat his laptop playing some RTS (that is to say, Real-Time Strategy) game. He had some black metal blaring from his stereo. I sat up and looked at him.
"I'm so bored!" I exclaimed, not knowing if it would be enough to pull him away from spawning more troops.
"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked. My plea for attention went unnoticed.
"I don't know," I started, "Ummmm...let's go to your hometown. It's what? An hour or two away?"
That got his attention. "Are you sure?" he asked, and before I could reassure him, "We should call James."
Mere seconds later we were both on our phones, Cliff scoping out parties in Bum Fuck County and I working out how much dro James and I could put down for. One quick change of clothes, a routine "business" deal and we were flying down the highway.
"Don't fuck my friends," Cliff warned me.
"What?" I asked, incredulously, "I'm a virgin, Cliff. Clearly I don't...well, y'know."
"Yeah, whatever," Cliff said, "Just don't fuck my friends."
"Whatever, dork."
"We're close," Cliff announced about 45 minutes later.
"Can we stop for cigarettes?" I blurted.
"Are you gonna give me one?"
"I guess."
We pulled into the driveway of a large, ranch-style house. "Don't slam the doors," Cliff instructed, "And follow me. Be quiet." We crept through the backyard soundlessly. The back door opened and a woman greeted us.
"This is my friend Liz. Liz, this is Lydia and that's James."
We followed Liz to a room near where we entered and took seats where we could find them. "Wanna smoke a bowl?" she asked once the door was closed. She pulled out a jar full of some of the driest schwag I've seen to date.
"Okay," I agreed and she started to pack the bowl. I wasn't used to low-grade marijuana at this point. It wasn't the green, fresh, deliciousness I was accustomed to. It hurt my lungs. I was barely buzzed. It was then I pulled out my own metal pipe and started to load a bowl which James, taking my cue, contributed to.
Well it turns out, Liz was cool, even if she sold dry schwag. Supposedly supply wasn't as plentiful as it had been in our hip, little college town. But in all my collegiate discernment, this was not exactly what one would call a party. It was just then that Cliff bid Liz farewell and ushered James and me back to the car in the same secrecy whence we arrived.
A few minutes later and we’re in front of another house. A shirtless guy runs out the front door and shouts to Cliff, “Holy shit, dude! I can’t believe you’re here!”
“What’s up, Kennedy?” Cliff greeted the half-naked boy with a handshake.
“Come in, guys, we’re playing beer pong.”
We walk in and it’s a fucking sausage fest if I’ve ever seen one. Not that I’m opposed. A few of the guys were younger than I expected, about fifteen if I had to guess. Sixteen, they tell me separately. I grab a Keystone and toss one to James. He’s already fawning over the beautiful Les Paul in the living room. I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen one in person and I understand the hefty price tag associated with it. It’s beautiful. A tall, cowboy-looking guy walks over and resumes his jam session on the now coveted ax.
Suddenly I’m more overtaken by how attractive I think he is than his musicianship. I don’t know any of the songs he plays and assume they’re songs he wrote on his own. I start walking around the living room, surveying everything. Pictures of the guitarist’s graduation. His name’s Jesse. And I want to touch him, maybe even (gasp!) kiss him, but instead I ignore him the entire time. I have to play it cool, right?
I partner with one of the sixteen-year-olds in a game of beer pong. I’m awful. Tired of losing streak, I wander into Kennedy’s bedroom and offer up a bowl. About five other guys enter the room, as if magnetized. Fucking potheads. Kennedy kicks most of them out so aside from us, only Cliff, James and Jesse occupy the room. It's about now that my perception of time stops aligning with reality.
Shortly after I notice the frays at the bottom of Kennedy's jeans, Cliff sets them on fire. "What the fuck, you fucking Jew!"
"Hey fuck you, man! I was just kidding! Look, it's already out."
"Hey," I protest, "What's wrong with Jews?"
"Oh," Kennedy says, "I don't know. I never thought about it, we just say it."
"Well," I continue, "I'm Jewish. And I'm pretty cool, right?" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There goes my cool points.
"Yeah," Kennedy concedes (to my surprise), "I guess Jews are pretty cool then."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many rounds of beer pong later, the majority of the party is passed out on couches in the living room. Jesse left for a different party long ago and I sit in the corner of one with my knees pulled up to my chest, trying to compact myself as much as possible to stay warm. I'm wondering how much I drank, but I keep losing track of my thoughts. Nothing makes sense and I give up admitting defeat. I'm definitely wasted. Just then I hear the front door open and in comes Jesse. I get up and head for the bathroom. Just as I exit I meet Jesse in the hallway.
"Oh, hey," he says.
"Hi," I say, "Umm...where are you going?"
"My room...?"
"Oh well...it's really cold in the living room. Can I go with you?"
"Yeah, come on."
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did that seriously just work? No, wait what the fuck did I just do? How did I manage...? I'm utterly mindfucked at this point, but I crawl into bed next to Jesse all the same. We lie next to each other for a while and I try to savor the shared warmth, the small victory I feel I've won.
"Hey, are you going to be awake for awhile?" he asks me.
"Yeah, probably," I say.
"Do you want to fuck?"
It takes a second for my mind to wrap around the question. Wait, did I hear that right? No, I have to be hallucinating. No, no, I definitely heard it right. My thoughts culminate into the audible, "Uhhh...." But do I want to....fuck? I guess I can just get it over with...I have to do it sometime, right? My heart is racing and without another thought I blurt, "Yeah."
"Take off your pants." Just like that. No romance, no soft focus, no perfectly composed soundtrack.
But he never actually...entered me. He kinda just thrust himself between my legs and rubbed it against me when he got up and grabbed a bottle of lube. "Turn around," he instructed. I figured he was way out of my league, so I obliged him without protest.
It didn't even hurt like you would think. Jesse was definitely well-versed in the arena of anal intercourse. It actually felt okay. Actually it was starting to feel better than okay when suddenly he stopped, "Sit up."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"You have to leave before my girlfriend comes over," he said, "Here's a blanket, actually, here's two."
I went back to the couch, my mouth numb, a pineapple flavor lingering. I must've slept for about 2 hours. Then it was up again and saying good-bye to everyone. The last good-byes were exchanged and we got back into Cliff's car.
"I have to tell you something," I said after I shut my door.
"What?" Cliff said, sleepily.
"I fucked your friend."
"Damn it! I told you not to...well who?"
"Jesse."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Most girls are going to fuck Jesse at some point. You just...did it a lot sooner than most."
Great. Just great. I felt empty.
"I'm so bored!" I exclaimed, not knowing if it would be enough to pull him away from spawning more troops.
"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked. My plea for attention went unnoticed.
"I don't know," I started, "Ummmm...let's go to your hometown. It's what? An hour or two away?"
That got his attention. "Are you sure?" he asked, and before I could reassure him, "We should call James."
Mere seconds later we were both on our phones, Cliff scoping out parties in Bum Fuck County and I working out how much dro James and I could put down for. One quick change of clothes, a routine "business" deal and we were flying down the highway.
"Don't fuck my friends," Cliff warned me.
"What?" I asked, incredulously, "I'm a virgin, Cliff. Clearly I don't...well, y'know."
"Yeah, whatever," Cliff said, "Just don't fuck my friends."
"Whatever, dork."
"We're close," Cliff announced about 45 minutes later.
"Can we stop for cigarettes?" I blurted.
"Are you gonna give me one?"
"I guess."
We pulled into the driveway of a large, ranch-style house. "Don't slam the doors," Cliff instructed, "And follow me. Be quiet." We crept through the backyard soundlessly. The back door opened and a woman greeted us.
"This is my friend Liz. Liz, this is Lydia and that's James."
We followed Liz to a room near where we entered and took seats where we could find them. "Wanna smoke a bowl?" she asked once the door was closed. She pulled out a jar full of some of the driest schwag I've seen to date.
"Okay," I agreed and she started to pack the bowl. I wasn't used to low-grade marijuana at this point. It wasn't the green, fresh, deliciousness I was accustomed to. It hurt my lungs. I was barely buzzed. It was then I pulled out my own metal pipe and started to load a bowl which James, taking my cue, contributed to.
Well it turns out, Liz was cool, even if she sold dry schwag. Supposedly supply wasn't as plentiful as it had been in our hip, little college town. But in all my collegiate discernment, this was not exactly what one would call a party. It was just then that Cliff bid Liz farewell and ushered James and me back to the car in the same secrecy whence we arrived.
A few minutes later and we’re in front of another house. A shirtless guy runs out the front door and shouts to Cliff, “Holy shit, dude! I can’t believe you’re here!”
“What’s up, Kennedy?” Cliff greeted the half-naked boy with a handshake.
“Come in, guys, we’re playing beer pong.”
We walk in and it’s a fucking sausage fest if I’ve ever seen one. Not that I’m opposed. A few of the guys were younger than I expected, about fifteen if I had to guess. Sixteen, they tell me separately. I grab a Keystone and toss one to James. He’s already fawning over the beautiful Les Paul in the living room. I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen one in person and I understand the hefty price tag associated with it. It’s beautiful. A tall, cowboy-looking guy walks over and resumes his jam session on the now coveted ax.
Suddenly I’m more overtaken by how attractive I think he is than his musicianship. I don’t know any of the songs he plays and assume they’re songs he wrote on his own. I start walking around the living room, surveying everything. Pictures of the guitarist’s graduation. His name’s Jesse. And I want to touch him, maybe even (gasp!) kiss him, but instead I ignore him the entire time. I have to play it cool, right?
I partner with one of the sixteen-year-olds in a game of beer pong. I’m awful. Tired of losing streak, I wander into Kennedy’s bedroom and offer up a bowl. About five other guys enter the room, as if magnetized. Fucking potheads. Kennedy kicks most of them out so aside from us, only Cliff, James and Jesse occupy the room. It's about now that my perception of time stops aligning with reality.
Shortly after I notice the frays at the bottom of Kennedy's jeans, Cliff sets them on fire. "What the fuck, you fucking Jew!"
"Hey fuck you, man! I was just kidding! Look, it's already out."
"Hey," I protest, "What's wrong with Jews?"
"Oh," Kennedy says, "I don't know. I never thought about it, we just say it."
"Well," I continue, "I'm Jewish. And I'm pretty cool, right?" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There goes my cool points.
"Yeah," Kennedy concedes (to my surprise), "I guess Jews are pretty cool then."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many rounds of beer pong later, the majority of the party is passed out on couches in the living room. Jesse left for a different party long ago and I sit in the corner of one with my knees pulled up to my chest, trying to compact myself as much as possible to stay warm. I'm wondering how much I drank, but I keep losing track of my thoughts. Nothing makes sense and I give up admitting defeat. I'm definitely wasted. Just then I hear the front door open and in comes Jesse. I get up and head for the bathroom. Just as I exit I meet Jesse in the hallway.
"Oh, hey," he says.
"Hi," I say, "Umm...where are you going?"
"My room...?"
"Oh well...it's really cold in the living room. Can I go with you?"
"Yeah, come on."
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did that seriously just work? No, wait what the fuck did I just do? How did I manage...? I'm utterly mindfucked at this point, but I crawl into bed next to Jesse all the same. We lie next to each other for a while and I try to savor the shared warmth, the small victory I feel I've won.
"Hey, are you going to be awake for awhile?" he asks me.
"Yeah, probably," I say.
"Do you want to fuck?"
It takes a second for my mind to wrap around the question. Wait, did I hear that right? No, I have to be hallucinating. No, no, I definitely heard it right. My thoughts culminate into the audible, "Uhhh...." But do I want to....fuck? I guess I can just get it over with...I have to do it sometime, right? My heart is racing and without another thought I blurt, "Yeah."
"Take off your pants." Just like that. No romance, no soft focus, no perfectly composed soundtrack.
But he never actually...entered me. He kinda just thrust himself between my legs and rubbed it against me when he got up and grabbed a bottle of lube. "Turn around," he instructed. I figured he was way out of my league, so I obliged him without protest.
It didn't even hurt like you would think. Jesse was definitely well-versed in the arena of anal intercourse. It actually felt okay. Actually it was starting to feel better than okay when suddenly he stopped, "Sit up."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"You have to leave before my girlfriend comes over," he said, "Here's a blanket, actually, here's two."
I went back to the couch, my mouth numb, a pineapple flavor lingering. I must've slept for about 2 hours. Then it was up again and saying good-bye to everyone. The last good-byes were exchanged and we got back into Cliff's car.
"I have to tell you something," I said after I shut my door.
"What?" Cliff said, sleepily.
"I fucked your friend."
"Damn it! I told you not to...well who?"
"Jesse."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Most girls are going to fuck Jesse at some point. You just...did it a lot sooner than most."
Great. Just great. I felt empty.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Introduction
So if you happened upon this blog, you're probably thinking it's some sort of porn site with pictures of what they'll promise you are "hot MILFs" when really all you're getting is the washed up waitress of some seedy hole-in-the-wall with over-bleached anuses.
I can at least promise you there will be none of THAT.
No, what is meant by "Fornication and the Suburbs" is that it's basically the same skankiness of another certain "relationship" column, but less agreeable because it isn't done in a pair of $500 heels.
The true inspiration for this project comes from a friend of your humble narrator and condom connoisseur, another writer whom I respect deeply (and not just because he makes me feel like less of an alcoholic).
What my intent in writing this is to chronicle the relationships with others (and I say others as opposed to men because I'll screw anything with good looks, good charms or good booze) beginning from the point I lose my "actual" virginity.
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