powered by SignMyGuestbook.com
powered by SignMyGuestbook.com
|
Napalm Love
2005-02-03 - 1:58 p.m. Going to my first MG parade tonight, well 2 of 'em, actually, in Nutria. I'm meeting my friend Red there. She'll be late, b/c she has to do a real estate closing at 5:30. So I'll be there for awhile by myself. I'm running out of friends, y'all! No, not really; just separating the chaff from the wheat. It's cold, but at least the rain has stopped, at least for today and tonight. this weekend and Lundi and Mardi Gras it's more uncertain. There are 2 boat parades this weekend, and Red and one of my other friends are riding in a Metry parade on Sat., N@p0le0n. They'll be on float 13, and they'll be the drunkest ones. Guaranteed. I better get mad beads and other useless trinkets from them. Last night Linsey and I went out and ate and drank $60 worth of sushi and beer. We had blue crab, adamame (I know I massacred that word, but I'm talking about the soybeans), she had the fish salad and I had a Boston hand roll, and we split some kind of noodles with mussels and other fish in it I couldn't identify. Tuna maybe. I do okay with chopsticks for the sushi itself, but you should see me with the noodles. I'm a mess, y'all. Add to that the 2 s0ma Linsey and I both took before dinner (for maximum effect, doncha know?), and it was a real challenge. But it was fun, and we enjoyed it. The only thing missing was the best-looking sushi chef wasn't working last night. He's a living doll, y'all. I'm not usually that attracted to Asian men - I kind of like big guys. Not fat or muscle-bound, just . . . big guys. But that sushi guy, P@ul, is a hottie fer shur! The owner is kind of cute, too, but he ain't got nothing on P@ul. His name is P-eter. I shit you not. Catholic schoolboys, the both of them. So that was last night. Today I had a visit from Flash which was very, very pleasant. I'm still working at home, which makes it even more convenient to be bad. I took a shower at 11:30 a.m., and left him the voice mail, "I'm naked. Should I get dressed or not?" A few minutes later he called back, telling me to hold the clothes, he was a mile or so away. Damn, that was easy. Almost like Dial-a-Dick. Now I'm all mellow and stoned and still wet from my second shower. I need to get dressed and get back to work . . . One more thang. I got another letter from the Indian. Too long to post (or me too lazy). He rode my ass about me not getting treatment, scared me with stories about what he's going through with his health, asked about my sex life, told me to think of him next time, warned me in code that the p@rish is crawling with u/c c0ps and to be careful, admitted he's not planning on going straight when he gets out, told me he loves me at the end. It's not good for us to write. It opens doors I've padlocked for life. I can never go there again with him, and I can't handle just being friends. I know what the C00nass feels for me. He could never handle the "friends with benefits" that I proposed, what Flash and I share so easily. His feelings got all tangled up around my feet, and I would up stomping on them by mistake. And that's what will happen in reverse to the Indian and me. He'll hurt me and never mean to, or maybe he'll be an asshole and mean to, "because he can." Either way it just sucks donkey balls for me, though. But I can't leave it alone, either. I can't just not answer his letters. communicating with him is like finding the only other person who speaks a lost language, and sitting down and saying everything you couldn't say to someone else. I don't say anything about us being together, I don't want to lead him on in any way. I just tell him things that are in my heart. I didn't get into sexual specifics with him, either. I briefly alluded to Flash, whom he knows and likes. I did tell him that what I missed about him personally wasn't the sex, it was the "psychic soul connection." He once said that no one could take me away from him sexually, and in some ways that's true, when you put it all together. But from a strictly sexual standpoint, Flash and I probably have better sex. He's much less selfish, for one. The Indian is the only man I've ever known to ever begrudge me multiple orgasms. But when he was in a mood, he resented that I came so much to his once or twice. Flash was astounded at that revelation. He's like, "You come, my dick gets harder. What's the problem?" Ya gotta love him. But there is no emotional depth to what we do; sexual gymnastics at its finest. With the Indian, it went so much farther, transcended anything I've ever had. Until it crashed and burned all over me like napalm, searing my soul and sending me running for cover. That's the part I got to remember - the napalm. �
still here - 2009-12-18
|