I have become that creepy guy on the bus secretly watching porn on his phone.
[video]
“You know that point in your life when you realize that the home you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? And all of a sudden the idea of ‘home’ is gone and you feel like you can never get it back. It’s like you’re homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist.” — Andrew Largeman (Zach Braff) - Garden State
sure, why not?
(via mehbil)
Belinda just left. And I had some Abita in the fridge.
Best. Mardi gras. Ever.
A thought occurred to me tonight as I drove home from rehearsal, and heard a bluegrass song on the radio relating the story of some wedding ring in a pawn shop that keeps getting bought for a young couple, and then sold when they split, only to be rebought again. That got me thinking: let’s say there was a magic wedding ring that would guarantee a storybook, “perfect” marriage (whatever that is to you, I guess), but it would only last for 5 years, at which point the two of you would be irrevocably removed from one another. Would you wear it?
Lorelei has lots of tests to grade and such tonight, so canceling appeared to be a foregone conclusion. Probably just as well.
I just hate disappointing people.
If your partner wants to have sex, and you’re not into it, for whatever reason, you might disappoint them, but that’s it. If your partner and your sometimes fuck buddy want to have a threesome, and you’re not into it, now you’re disappointing two people. Thus the dilemma in which I currently find myself, and why I agreed to have said threesome tonight, though I really don’t want to.
Now I’m suffering from the anxiety and overall sense of panic I have come to expect from myself in such situations. So I’m miserable, all because I don’t know how to say “no” to anyone except myself, and my whole week got progressively more fucked as it went on.
First of all, most of my plans this week have been blown to hell. Sunday, I was informed, anonymously, that I’m doing a shitty job at that particular gig. Monday, a friend was supposed to pick me up from work for drinks, but spaced on me, leaving me to take the bus home. Tuesday I got electrocuted via the microphone at rehearsal. Wednesday I had to remove a fucking bat from the house. Thursday the threesome was pushed back because of a lingering early period. Friday, same deal. Saturday, three different people bailed on us, leaving us drifting all day. And today, all I wanted to do was sit down, eat some food, and watch the fucking Super Bowl, but that plan’s moved, too. Yes, I’m complaining that I have to have sex. But you’re missing the point: I need some sort of predictability this week, or I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.
That’s really all I have to say. Not really feeling the whole “compelling prose” thing today. Just me bitching. Sorry.
…in my living room. Back later.
I was informed tonight, while packing up my gear after rehearsal, that Belinda has requested our, um, services Thursday. It’s a nice little ego boost to have someone who, frankly, could probably find someone else to fuck, to want to come back. But that aside, I thought of this song. Enjoy.