December 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
Today, at the toy store, right after breakfast, I found this plastic wand filled with water and glitter. It’s a stupid little tube, and I wanted to throw it. Instead I bought it.
Mary Lou was the first therapist I was even taken to. She was fat and liked to wear those long, buttonless sweater vests in warm browns. I went to see her when I was seven, with my mulleted head full of ideas about the sort of bad person who sees a therapist. It was a threat from my crazy relatives. They kept saying they’d take me to a therapist if I didn’t straighten up. I guess I didn’t, because I started seeing Mary Lou, who would have me draw pictures and then she’d ask questions about why I never had any arms in any of the drawings.
Last night I was getting fucked in that painful, thrusting, holding your ass cheeks open way that makes a person grab the sheets really tight. « Read the rest of this entry »
December 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
He says I drink too much. I say “Yeah, I made that pretty well known.” He says “But I thought I could improve you. Now that you have me, you don’t need to drink.” And I wonder where he got the idea that I was sitting around waiting for the right person, drinking to dull the edges of loneliness. And I tell him that drinking has never lost me anything. He tells me that now it’s lost me him. And I repeat that drinking has never lost me anything.
It’s the same as it always is. They always assume I’m the lonely one when they leave. And when they call, later, they sound like dogs with cement in their throats, saying it’s alright, they didn’t mean anything, and can they come over.
December 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
I didn’t mean to do it either. When he was painting me for the photo shoot, he kept asking me what I was thinking about. Just then I was thinking about you, but I didn’t want to go into this story about how you’d left for Italy and lost your mind. Or did you lose your mind, then go to Italy? Whatever it was you did, I was thinking about how much I miss you, because you used to tell me the most boring stories and I always wanted to listen. I was thinking about how, on the night I met you I was bored and only invited you to my place because you had booze and I was bored, and how I didn’t think you were cute. I was thinking how that’s the only time in my life I’ve ever fallen in love with someone without having to force myself to, like if you have to eat a disgusting thing and you tell yourself it’s not disgusting just to make it easier to swallow it without barfing.
This week has been weird for me. In smells and tastes, in bodies and styles, this whole week has been exhausting my head and my cunt. Each of these men only have one thing in common. They really think they’re driving me wild. With one it’s “Your pussy is wet for me.”, and I want to tell him it’s probably wet from the last guy. Or from the ten times I masturbated before he showed up. Then there’s “You like my cock, yes? I can see. I very talented.” He’s not retarded, he’s just foreign. « Read the rest of this entry »