I love you
I hope the words get through
You're my dream come true
Oh how I love you
I love you
I know it's cliche, too
But that's no big deal, cause it's real
I love you
Put your arms around me
Hold me tight
Everything will be alright
I love you
Although I sound confused
I'd stake everything on just how much
I love you
I love you
With all my doubts removed
I'd go anywhere, do anything, to prove how much
I love you
Put your arms around me
hold me tight
Everything will be alright
I love you
Feels like I have the flu
It's such a bad case, my body aches
I love you
I love you
I hope you want me too
I pray everyday, I'll hear you say
I love you
I know it's probably not the smartest idea to rest your laptop on your stomach while you're lying down and coughing up a lifetime of caked-on snot chunks from the depths of your bowels. I've already flipped it over a couple of times while exorcising the little snot devils in convulsive fits the most spastic epileptic would've been proud of.
I seem to be blowing out a rainbow of snot colors every minute. I have never been so amazed by the artistic ability of my immune system.
Something just crawled in and died right in the middle of my throat. Not sure what it was, but its decomposing texture feels an awful lot like thick juicy snot. And not the good kind.
There are a great many things on my mind as I lie here in a drug-induced stupor at 2 AM. Number one is, how come no matter how many times I swallow the river of mucus in my throat, it somehow manages to still be there?? It's pissing me off.
Anyone who happens to find an extra lung lying around and not sure where it came from, please send to: Missing Screw, c/o Billy Graham, Minnesota, USA.
I'm not really living with Billy Graham or anything. It's just the first address that popped inside my deeply disturbed brain at the moment.
I'm having a snot attack. Call 411.
Why are all the lines on my screen moving to the beat of Olivia Newton-John's "Physical"?? And why are they all talking to me?? Why do they keep telling me to blog about them?? I don't even know what the hell they like for breakfast.
Would someone please tell me why the hell it's 90 f-ing degrees already and it's only the middle of April???? I swear to the gods, I'm moving to the extreme northern magnetic polar region just as soon as I can find a job there. And a house with DSL capability.
Gas prices are starting to really piss me off. I'm already working on alternative forms of transportation. I just wish they would make rocket fuel commercially available. It's the safest form of transportation in the world, and it's cheaper than dirt. Really rare, expensive dirt, that is.
No really. Rocket travel is the safest form there is. Think about it. How many people you know been killed or injured in a rocket accident??
Oh god. I just swallowed more gobs of sticky fluids down my throat than Pamela Anderson did in that video.
Okay okay. The funny looking object on the corner of my screen said to tell you that the next time you go past the red brick building without the green roof, be sure not to tell the person nearest you that Freddy is afraid and will be in Boston next Tuesday.
Desire -- even primal sexual desire -- can be shaped by words; this is what distinguishes us from the animals; this is what makes possible the erotic.
Animals are driven by a scent; their coupling is chemical. Fortunately, humans are not so constrained: our fantasies can inflame desire; our words can seduce us. The longings of love, the licking flames of a fire, the pulpy flesh of a mango, the red curvature of a tulip bulb, a butterfly contentedly opening and closing its wings as it dips into the many-layered infoldings of the rose flower, the bold manliness of the yucca plant in bloom -- all of this can whet desire in a woman or a man. Desires are, I dare say, particularly whetted by the prospect that some words in cyberspace can initiate a correspondence and connection which beautifully inspire to pursue and enjoy happiness and the erotic and all the delights of the life of the mind and imagination. For the mind, after all, is our most important erogenous zone.
The mind leads us to sex that combines the erotic and the playful -- sex that makes us feel alive and so thankful that we are not just creatures of biology, driven by scent to reproduce, or just creatures of lust, driven by impulse to fuck fast with no feeling. The creative mind leads to an oasis of pleasure -- a sex that teases the mind as it tests the body -- a sex that leaves us topsy-turvy, criss -crossed, head over heels, forgetful of time, mixed up about who did what to whom, lingerie and pillows scattered who knows where, the woman purring in contentment, the pleasure of sex suffusing her body with a radiant joy, and the man worn out, with no spring left in him and with his brains so fucked out, he can only lie there in wordless amazement at the remarkable forces of nature that conspired to give women the blissful capacity for multiple orgasms.
Erotic sex can be like a great jazz combo improvising together, performing a music that transcends the limits of a solo or duet: it can be a man and a woman playing together, taking turns, combining, making music that lasts far beyond midnight as we strum every string of the bass, as we riff up and down our bodies with our tongues, as we finger every key of a woman's body as if it were a saxophone, making her wail and bleat in the orgasmic crescendos of a Charlie Parker hitting over and over again the highest and most soulful notes on his sax.
The moment I long for in the bedroom is the moment when fantasy on the verge of realization becomes the most powerful aphrodisiac, when a man begins to kindle all the little fireplaces on a woman's body, getting her so hot that she's more impossible to cool down than a Texas town in August.
The thing of it is, they say, you can never tell until the very end of it is over. And at the beginning of it all, is a solid core which no one understands or ever cares to see.
Girl: "Sir, just let us know when you're ready to look at something."
Guy: "Okay. I'm ready now."
Girl: "Excellent!"
Other Girl: "That didn't take long."
Girl: "It never does with him."
Guy: "You remembered?"
Girl: "Oh yeah!"
Guy: "Wow."
Girl: "So... what will it be today?"
Guy: "This... and these... and these... and these..."
Girl: "These are very pretty."
Guy: "Okay then."
Girl: "Which do you want?"
Guy: "All of em."
Girl: "All of em?"
Guy: "Please."
Girl: "You amaze me every time you come in here."
Other Girl: "What's the occasion?"
Guy: "Just 'anytime' gifts..."
Other Girl: "For different people?"
Guy: "No. Just for her."
Other Girl: "Geeze."
Girl: "Yeah, well you should have seen the ring he got her..."