There is a lump in the back of my throat. My skin dry from the Santa Anas blowing congestive smog about the south land basin. My head foggy this morning from the evening unfolding. Like old times it was. The bong flowing freely after a tasty supper of thinly sliced slain meat in a crusty warm sandwich bun followed by a side of sparkling brown Au Jus.
As I sit on my ass and contemplate the airport happenings I wonder about a lot of things. Stupid things, mundane things, things that could of happened, and things that are raw on my nerves like the innocent goodbyes of lovers, friends and families cycling through the prestigious doors of the greatest presidents airport; John Wayne. You know the guy from Death Valley Days. Anyway, as my sit bones push into the black vinyl chairs with smooth grace-like efficiency I see these people kiss, hug and smooch, more yearnings for hellos and despising the good byes, besieges me. Back in my day I would have laughed this off as dumb founded gestures but as I remake myself into this older body I find myself filled with a sadness. With such a void, I look up and I see a flight leaving for San Fran, and I think.
I think of a life filled with some form of happiness I had never considered before. Partly, because the unknown is intriguing and not absolute and also partly because I know I enjoy the fine art of fantasy. I may have fooled myself into believing a fantasy that perhaps does not exist. I realize I am in no way important to others in the way I have left myself to believe. The art of letting go of dreams is a hard torch to carry just like how the Olympic torch, the symbol of nations coming together and competing in friendly world games was, sadly conceived by Hitler just before WW2 broke out and the tradition stuck. Come to think of it, Putin is following that same path, but I digress. My heart is that torch, ill conceived from the evils of my mind with ultimate ulterior motives. Hitler was a dick.
As I write this, for example the most beautiful Indian woman just exited the elevator onto the floor I am on. If you've ever been to the John Wayne Airport than perhaps you have been to the regional jet area. It is kind of the red headed step child to all the other gates. Filled with sloppy, tired travelers playing their voice mails on speaker phones just to annoy my ears and make me feel like a bit of a voyeur. The exquisite young lady in her late twenties of dark complexion and alluring eyes exits the stainless steel door fr
Passengers say good bye and I become lonely. I want to help out. Kiss the pretty ones and smile at the others. What is wrong with me? Is this human condition holding me back. All smiles on the outside but torment in the gooey parts of my being. Above all I like honesty. I hate being ignored. I hate not knowing. The act of being human sucks. I wish I was a sociopath. Life would be chill.
The sun is bright out there and the winds are picking up. Jet planes leaving and landing in reverse order of the standard to compensate for the early arrival of the winds. Much earlier than I ever remember from being a native, born and bread of this area the hot winds come. This airport used to be a small aircraft harbor with hundreds of Sesnas strapped to the runways. Now a sprawling, shiny metallic shrine to the greatest cowboy ever, John Wayne from Iowa. On my way back to the cold.
Letting go begins with the self and I feel a change running through my spine. Tingling out with efficiency but this will fade so maybe I will take up cutting to remind myself. No, that sounds painful. It was good to see my friends from way back when, but it still felt empty. Fuck if I know what to do. I wonder if these boys will come to my funeral. I can see my immediate family hovered over my coffin, sad and upset but that is about it. No friends, mistresses, kids I never knew I had and/or anything else for that matter. I see them placing their condolences on mine and their Facebook pages, but that is about it because as they say....life goes on. "Dude, did you hear about Larry?", "RIP Larry Bear", "Just got some fresh veggies at the farmer's market and oh Larry died, which reminds me I have to put this fish in the freezer before it starts to stink!" would be about the extent of it. Yes, I am alone. Is it because I might be ugly? A huge noggin placed on the shoulders of a young strapping man, now slightly balding? Okay, really balding. I don't fucking know, but who really knows, except maybe the obvious pretty ones who, at least, are in turn probably just as messed up as I am, if not more. I just need deepness with an efficiency that does not judge. A screwed up kind of paradigm that I am sure does not exist, much like the fallacy of love. Another human condition created by our 4th president, Dr. Hallmark the 3rd. Thanks DH3, you have us all fooled and miserable. I have friends on here, scorned by its very nature, and I feel for them, I really do, and then the fantasy roles in and I want to sweep them off their feet. I guess I do love them and all their flaws and greatness, but again I wonder. Do they love me? Nah, probably not, and I am okay with that, because, love does not exist. It does not conquer and it is not all you need. It is what none of us need.
There I said it. Honesty. Love is much worse than anything, so why do we put it on a toadstool and dance around it like it is the end all of human consumption and a cure for anything carnal? Humans are carnal and by no means am I the exception. I do put sincere love into my carnal behavior however. My love making is filled with feeling and love. It can be hard and fast and/or slow and sweet, but either way it is love making at its finest. I attribute it to pornalizing my Moms Vogue collection from when I was a sprouting young pubescent lad. I would scour those things looking at tips and trademarks that could only possibly lead to fantastic sex. The perfume adds were also intoxicating. To much so for a young virgin, enticed by the fine odors of Chanel, I would close my eyes and picture the bordellos and hookers paying me to go there. Pipe dreams, I know. In summary, love needs to be carnal and raw or it becomes jaded. Smacks you like a hammer in the ass, which can be fun but painful. For a lover such as myself, without "carnal" it is fucking hard to love. Self worth is shot to shit because of the loss of gooey, delicious carnal love making covered in chocolate rainbows as unicorns fly out of my ass.
Let go and breathe. Let go now.
I have never been kissed at the airport
ps tried to post this as an experience but apparently it violates EP's terms of service. Really? If you could tell me why, that would be helpful. thanks ttyl
I need to run away. Take me to the place I love. Take me all the way. I have not stopped moving for a week. Today, the diet consisted of one pomegranate refresher, a salted caramel frappuccino, a banana, a large glass of water, chicken soup and bread followed by a ginger ale. Not the healthiest but I did not have much time to eat. I need to hop in my car and flee. Road trip time. Who's with me? We can split the gas money and don't touch the radio!
Today. Oct. 26th, 2012.
Today has been a subsequent cluster fuck of emotional non-emotion. Alarm beep beeps at me at 4:35am. Get up, get dressed and out the door. It was an early day for me and an early exit from my profound job as a professional nude midget wrestler. No, not really I am a......Well maybe a bit to much information for this forum. Finish work, go to store as a co-worker and his family are stopping by tonight. The menu includes, my world scrumptious guacamole (ask me for the recipe) nachos with marinated flank stank and beer. The family is quite religious which is totally fine with me, but I find it a bit to wholesome as I think of my wife, and aspiring Yogi, with an aptitude for denying anything potentially sexual, at least in regards to me. At least I can say I am married to a Yoga instructor, if she ever decides to become one. But I digress. The family is very nice and seem non-judgmental and a bit of an enigma to myself. The wife, foxy as she is in a warm way, has a delicate sense of her self and the husband a bit warm as well.
I sit back and can't help but wonder what their personal sex life is like. Not in a perverted way but I wonder if it is like my own, sadly a parched horse in that aspect, or is that of the scorching son, so locked down in its ambivalent sure fire hot to trot way, exceeding all expectations.
Anyway, I am having guacamole tonight with my nachos and a nice cervesa and will ponder many things, excluding intercourse with my roommate. That always fails.
After I came home I became annoyed at the fact that I worked all day (she just got a job after two months of learning hot yoga (my gift to her for her Bday)) and I was the one being productive attending to the critters, which is fine as I love em', however fine that is she decided she needed a break and went off to watch new girls on Hulu. Later I got out my chainsaw and......Don't worry. I am as about non-homicidal as they come, proceded to the back yard and hacked the shit out of some meaty limbs, again tree limbs not arms and legs (Sicko's). After 3 hours I came in and popped open a beer. A beer mind you that came from a $9.99 12 pack of Mexican sampler beer. My first choice was the Tecate which was buy one get 12 free back in the day when we used to cross the border into Rosarito. Shortly thee after, she popped into her sexy spandex yoga outfit. She is Petite and I think beautiful which pains me to no ends, I think she is trying to kill me,after my insurance money or something. I should tell her I don't have any.
She leaves and I proceed to this moment now, at this time, but shortly before decided to take some nasty resin hits from a glass pipe that contained the contents of a wonderfully made california bud. At this point I am slightly buzzed from my beer and my bad choice of resin hits. I have to cook and entertain the good christian people tonight.
Should be interesting!
I will probably try and get the wife drunk and seduce her for my own shits and giggles. i f I do get any action it will be her lying their, waiting for it to be over and me hurrying to the punch because I can't stand the pained look in her face. Hmmmmm maybe I am doing it wrong, but in the beginning she sure liked it. The light switch just went dim one day.
I will try and keep anyone who may or even may not care posted. Laterz
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There were so many blogs it makes my head spin. 1 year of not getting laid gets the juices flowing (only figuratively)
Give a shout out if you remember these Gems
1. A Boner at Costco
2. The Pumpkin Patch Bucket Ride
and my personal favorite
3 Canadian girls love butterscotch like American girls love Chocolate
Previous PostsI was kissed at the airport, posted May 1st, 2014
For Hire, posted November 16th, 2012, 4 comments
Nachos and Christianity vs A Beer and A Bong Me, posted October 26th, 2012, 4 comments
Pervert, posted September 9th, 2012
Past Blog of Blogs, posted August 26th, 2012, 1 comment
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