Monday, September 15, 2008

do You know? do I know?

0 Commentaries/Bashings
(´beats the very fuck from out of me.)



it feels like i am experiencing a much more damaging form of Writers' Block.


on the bright side, i believe i have a Thesaurus some↕place around here..
..i mean, i hope my mom didn't "commandeer" it, during one of all those times when she had rooted through my things.

(why did she do that, anyway?

what was she hoping to find?)


i am also afraid that my word-/expression-range is ... severely limited.

but this is a consequence of me preferring to stay away from Abstracts, {and not having an especially-active imagination}, isn't it?

there isn't much i can do about it at the moment; so, as a way to augment my output in spite of my inadequacy, i had been thinking about ... transcribing at least one of my many Journals for your perusal here.

and it might be fitting if i utilize the very first Chronicle i penned..
..only, i must hope it is still viable: considering i wrote it in pencil.

back in 1994.

or so.

let's see...


´summer of 1995.


(it's in relatively good shape, still; my handwriting isn't too great..
..but this was before i began wearing The Glove.)


well, you see: when i returned to the work↕site, monday night, i spied a dime lain on one of the tables in the break room; i took it.

but i relented,—hearkening back once more to The Warnings mother, dearest, instilled in me regarding this exact sort of si'chiachun,──putting the coin back where i found it.

the next morning, after work, on my way to the bus↕stop, there was a dime lying on the street.


evidently, Something wanted me to have 10¢; i took it.

and i kept strolling to the bus.


incidentally, i always have to wonder over how many of the dollar bills i get have ever been placed down someone's cleavage, or genitals:

if i might eventually get a contact high from handling these currency units which had been used to snort drugs.


what's the point of having someone wear Bullet-proofed Armor? (i myself would merely use a shot↕gun, to blast off {a chunk of} the head, if i feel i cannot strike a lethal area of my target with one or two bullets propulsed from a standard-caliber fire↕arm.)


you know what would be cool?

is if all the thugs started wearing Suits.

like in the old days.

(i mean.. ..most of the crimes that 40 Street Bangers can commit in six months will almost always pale in comparison to an atrocity that 4 White Collar Bastards can enact in 6 mere days...

...most of you just get taken in by the consequences that usually, mostly, show up immediately after a burglary or a mugging; the long-term consequences of the Daily Swindles escape your ire because you're not as able to formulate an emotional, visceral response to them.

{yet you experience these Illicit Dealings' effects every waking and sleeping moment: those fuckers can rape you with all your clothes on, and intact.})

so, when these Hoodlums & Malcontents start dressing up in standard-Wall Street Attire, {prejudiced, discriminatory} white people will have one fewer thing to lord over the people they themselves pigeon-holed, so many scores ago.

actually, they will lose the ability to enjoy the ... rather superficial, artificial plateau which donning such threads had previously bestowed them, wouldn't they and what a change in dynamics that would present.


begrudgingly.. ..i will own up to you-all: that the guy upon whom i had previously sworn unbreakable, Eternal Vengeance, and had proclaimed would have further Severe Psychological Trauma visit upon his head, the next he blithely presumed himself into my company, was to be the same fellow whose arse i'd find myself fucking, saturday morning.


what can i say?


i had to give the sum↕bitch an "A" for his efforts: in being the first to reëstablish contact betwixt the two of us, heralding a passable-accounting for {most of} his Extended Silence when doing so.

(irregarding that circumstance, he still didn't account for his more-than-obvious lack of response to the last missive i sent him..

{as long as he didn't summarily dismiss me because of his having come across some new guy he'd want to—futilely—focus all his time on...}

..but, would it be too much a stretch if i were to presume That Matter will, one way or another, gain resolution?)

. . . . .

i don't suppose i could.. ..have just left him hanging, after he put himself Out There on the line as he had; i had some needs of my own, besides.


on the ride over to his apartment, he told me what i believe was another part of the reason he had.. ..shut himself off from me: his having become afear'd, once again, i was Falling In Love with him.

(i immediately put him at rest with the assurance that was furthest from happening: in-so-far-as, i knew that, logistically, our forming and maintaining a stable {Monotonous} Relationship simply is not feasible.

{i mean..
..i could love the fucker, but i would know better than compelling him into actual Emotional Monogamy with me.})

i suppose, then, part of his apprehension stemmed from what i had been making him feel: his cerebral reaction to, in his opinion, my being loving, affectionate, and attentive.

sentiments with which he regaled me, as i was messing around with him in his Bed.

(i guess he wasn't quite sure how to deal with such lavishings, and had, for some odd reason, been too afraid to say anything to me about it.)


and his reäction to my cock in his arse: jeez!

i mean..
..the number... ...of times he exclaimed to me how good he believed It felt, up there.

i know it had been a few weeks since last he was fucked, but, surely, i should not be lead to believe his experiencing such profound sensations can only be brought about by little old me?

(´though he also told me he liked my body... facial attributes.....)

i reck'n i gave him enough of a work↕out; i could have kept at it, if he hadn't had to Go Somewhere.


maybe he was trying to put to rest some of the concerns i had expressed, so many weeks ago...


i can declare, for certain, that it was nice, the unexpected thing which his house↕mate did for me: his having set aside some ... of the food he had prepared, that evening, for me to take to work, later that night: chicken-fried rice con un toque de puertorriqueño.

(i do intend to return the "tupper↕ware" in which the food↕stuff had been placed, washed, the next time i return.

in addition to the book which EZ E lent me.)

(i would go on to find that i could not particularly care for the Plaintains he added on top..
..but every culture is different.

and i can respect that.)

i did make sure to thank him, never-the-less, for his thoughtfulness: "you deserve a thousand blow↕jobs" for doing something like that for me..

..the poor guy.....

.....currently undergoing some Rending Pain, with kidney stones.

(that is something which i would definitely wish on my worst enemy.)


having done all that, i still had a few minutes to spare, for the 3-bus.
(i was kinda nervous about having left out their house at 9:34, since buses run funnier on week↕ends..
..and i had a decent bit of a wait in store for me, indeed, ´pon my ´rival at the connecting Bus Stop; but it was okay, since the air was pretty nice — and i made it to work on time, too.)

Instinct compelled me look to see which bus it was that was straggling directly behind the 20-line (the one i was going to board since it was destined to show up minutes before the 36-bus...
...instinct having borne true, on this occasion: the 36-bus arriving earlier than expected.

and i was scrambling to that fucker, quite, for fear of its pulling off before i could flag the coach down: rude, fat-ass, cow-like [{nigger} muther↕fuckers] blocking my way, not discerning that, apparently, "someone was in a hurry"...
(...or, perhaps: uncertain, victim-like, scared bastards who were somewhat-immobilized with fear when confronted with someone who had that look on his face heading towards them, frantically, for no apparent reason?)


i think i am getting closer to finding a name for them: one which should be substantially better than "native american," for sure!



until it is rendered Undoubtedly Irrefutable, that They did not cross over to what eventually became known as The Americas, over from the eurasia region, so many millennia ago..
..then i will stick with something close to this — certainly, the reference to the Bering Strait has to be there.

while i'm at it..

------'s been said that a good, trans-beringian name for this land mass, pre-Vespucci, might be

Abya Yala.

i am down for That.

what do you think?


i sure do enjoy looking at these clouds just float on past me — their contrast against the blue sky ── clouds which, at the moment, move as if they have no particular destination in mind, yet, still have someplace they need to go, never-the-less.

and they all look so close to me, indeed: as if i, too, can simply walk to the top of a sky↕scraper, reach out, and then grab away a piece of them.


unfortunately, i ... seem to have been struck with a Lazy Bug.

so, forgive me if more of my upcoming posts seem lazy.


(i am still learning this language just like y'all are.)

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