Infinitely Disposable

i have neglected you for far too long. the truth is, i have not been writing lately. i’ve been too busy getting drunk and passing out. but to prove my loyalty to tumblr i will post this ridiculous photo of myself being a drunk idiot. enjoy :)

and I just finished driving about 14hrs. I should be sleeping right now….but the thought of sleeping alone isn’t very enticing.

theabstract:

what i find funny about this article is that Jezebel is referencing SUNY Plattsburgh’s newspaper…  what’s not so funny is that they’re using a dude’s lame horrorshow story to illustrate their viewpoint.  and what’s funnier?  that i’m bothering to critique it.

(via applesandseeds)

I just thought it was hilarious, but still very unnecessary. Who gives a shit if the guys down or not, that’s how you learn if you’re compatable with someone (well not this specific example…but you get where I’m going with this)

Wicked Wisdom - Of Montreal

I’ve been back for a couple days and it’s been great. So far I’ve:

1. Spent the night with a gorgeous woman.

2. Saw my best buddie, my pit bull Lola, and my bunny Kafka.

3. Saw several great bands at Fun Fest.

4. Smoked some good weed with various hip hop artisits and DJs.

5. Drank it up with my Boston hooligans The Street Dogs.

6. Danced with a crazy drunk hipster to Of Montreal.

AND I’m not leaving till wed. Lets see if I can top off my list.

My favorite collection.

I was a 70s porn star and yes I wore cufflings, a bow tie, and gold lamay shorts.

I went out with some friends to a couple parties and ended up getting invited to a badass central park penthouse party.  Lots of rich people and older great looking women.  One of them approached me and asked what I was. So I told her I’m a 70s porn star. She said, “you’re too young and not hairy enough to be one of those. you look like the typical gay porn star now a days.” And I said, “hmm, really? But I’m not gay although I am dressed really gay.”

Here’s where it gets interesting…..

She leaned over and said, “How ‘bout you shake that ass for me and show me what you got in there that obviously everyone can see.”  So guess what I did. Thats right. I shook that ass and that middle aged woman loved it.  She also groped me in inappropriate places but it was well worth it when she stuck 2 tickets for the next Yankees home game in my shorts.

Best halloween by far.

The first time that I met her I was throwing up in the ladies room stall. She asked me if I needed anything; I said, I think I spilled my drink. And that’s how it started (or so I’d like to believe)

She took me to her mother’s house outside of town where the stars hang down. She said she’d never seen someone so lost, I said I’d never felt so found and then I kissed her on the cheek and so she kissed me on the mouth.

Spring was poppin’ daises up ‘round rusted trucks and busted lawn chairs. We moved into a studio in Council Bluffs to save a couple bucks. Where the mice came out at night, neighbors were screaming all the time. We’d make love in the afternoons to Chelsea Girls and Bachelor No. 2, I’d play for her some songs I wrote, she’d joke and say I’m shooting through the roof, I’d say, They’re all for you, dear, I’ll write the album of the year.

And I know she loved me then, I swear to God she did. It’s way she’d bite my lower lip and push her hips against my hips and dig her nails so deep into my skin.

The first time that I met her I was convinced I had finally found the one. She was convinced I was under the influence of all those drunken romantics I was reading Fante at the the time I had bukowski on the mind. She got a job at Jacob’s serving cocktails to the local drunks. Against her will. I fit the the bill: I perched down at the end of the bar, She Said, Space is not just a place for stars I gave you an inch, you want a house with a yard. And I know she loved me once, but those days are gone. She used to call me everyday from a pay phone on her break for lunch just to say she can’t wait to come home.

The last time that I saw her she was picking through which records were hers. Her clothes were packed in boxes, with some pots and pans and books and a toaster. Just then a mouse scurried across the floor. we started laughing ‘til it didn’t hurt.

I was told today by my mother that i am:

inept.

incompetent.

feckless.

inadequate.

Thanks ma for testing my sysnonym knowledge. Please remind me to update you with this photo of me being inept, incompetent, feckless, and inadequate. With love, your son the broke poet. PS tell pop to get rid of my childhood paintings, they suck.

My Muse