Wednesday, June 23, 2004


And she bounded into my room and into my lap and damn, there was a woman, smelling like one and soft and molding herself to my form and damn I wanted her. SO I shouldn’t, SO she’s my roommate and I shouldn’t.
Not even clear that I could, she bounding drunk damn it, bounding soft and molding damn it—

been a while since I’ve written. We turn round and round. We register voters. We imagine alternate worlds, where we’re not all so afraid all the time.

tired now, should just go to bed. think instead about her curves, feel like masturbating maybe, maybe writing more maybe, listening to hip hop.

friend today tells me: So you’ll be in Amsterdam, my man. Well. You know the whole two girl fantasy, my friend? The one that haunts us all? 100 euros. ‘nuff said. 100 euros. And let’s just say I feel temptation. If I lived more without fear, I’d just do it, without feeling I was entering a minefield. What do you think? Should I? Why, the story alone will be worth 100, unless of course it descends into some tale of my inadequacy…


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