Sometimes, I think that writing here is a hopeless, helpless, unnecessary task… This is mostly due to the folks who attempt to leave comments on this hallowed space to advertise products and services. Needless to say, I am an asshole, and any such crass advertisements, even if they come with a “love your blog!!!” will not be published. My heart is hardened, yes sir! However, (very) occasionally (in fact, only twice), I receive comments that I post without reservation or editing. I do this because they are actually referencing anything I’ve said in a post. As much as I may seem merely a judgmental jackhole, I really do need to know I’m loved. Or hated. Or an enviable mixture of both. Love/hate me, repeatedly, textually… Just don’t be indifferent!!!
Anyway, now that my shameless internet-wide plea for comments is done, you should know that this man, the ever-hot, the freakishly talented, and recently published, is still on the road, getting high on the love of others… And perhaps on meningitis, as well, as is pointed out in his most recent blog post… Y’all (yes, YOU, my non-fictitious readers,) need to get his books (see the links on the website,) immediately, read his blog in its’ entirety, and fall in love, too. The fact that he was Orpheus’ pen-pal before I’d ever heard of him only makes me like O. a little more… In addition to making me freakishly jealous. ;-) Read his stuff. You won’t be sorry.
Today itself sucks. It is very slow, sales are awful, and I can’t force myself to dial out. I was always told when younger that I could do whatever I wanted to do, and that I’d be great at anything, and important/powerful/charismatic to boot… What everyone forgot to tell me was that it takes a long time to get there, and you have to bow, scrape, nod yes incessantly re: stupid ideas, and generally suck a lot of dick before you actually get to make any dumb choices of your own. Also, that this humbling package comes with a lot of pointless shit-work you couldn’t give a fig about if you tried. Kindness to children is the dumbest thing ever. I say let the little bastards see reality for what it is. A horrifying fuck-fest of douche-baggery! Neither adolescence nor the first decade of office work would be so horrible. It’s easier to get through a thing if you know what’s coming, after all. Alternately, cold reality could end up scaring more kids into the useful sciences and engineering school instead of pointless liberal arts programs nationwide! I may not have been any happier as an engineer than I am now, but I’d sure as hell be a lot wealthier.
Hopefully, Orpheus feels good, tonight, as I’m about to vibrate out of my skin. I want to be snuggled, cuddled, and fucked into submission. Is that such an awful thing? He told me this morning, while sluggishly casting about my clothing-carpeted room for my errant glasses, that he felt pretty darned good. Hopefully that translates to a meeting of the genitalia tonight. While I don’t want to sound sex-crazed, it’s fairly certain that I am, and when I have a lot of a good thing just lying there ripe, the natural conclusion is to take a bite. Fortunately, O. seems to be changing ripe odor for ripe’n’ready now that he feels more human. Mmm… Firm and juicy.
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