Mother nature hath bared her womb and birthed
spring-the snow finally melts away and reveals the mud
of creation Spring break has finally ended and the
stress and the turmoil of midterms and papers soon due
are momentarily over-for a brief period we can rest and
relax and unwind in our own 'private Idaho', our own
Buried within textbooks-amid a shower of paperwork-
it seems almost evident that spring break is over. And
soon the tan lines and temporary tattoos will
fade away-and, alas-midtown revelers, road-trippers
and Bacchus' alike will be students again. Mere slaves
to the confines of time and place-and study.
But what did we learn from this illustrious mode of
elapsed diversion? A respect for home, a disdain for the
collegium's-or a new way to revel that consists
of a funnel and a garden hose?
No matter, for the mind awakes itself from its coffers-
shrugs the dust and alcohol off and falls into its old modus
of operendum-the day in day out brainwash of
On a torn down wall-
effaced of marbled stone
the wall, but grand-
Defiantly to fall,
and pictures sketched
as if they'd never leave,
Thoughts of old-
left to grieve.
The EcdysiastSitting here at this rented company 'safe' computer I
recollect the days gone by and how many different
aspects and personalities I've had to adapt in order
to make it where I am today.
Now, don't get me wrong- I am no Tila Tequila nor am I
Lindsay Lohan- in fact, I am far from those icons of
reality that the media shoves down our throats! But yet I
still retain some degree of notoriety that would as yet as
rival either of them if it became known.
I have quite a few skeletons in my closet-
Well, I really wouldn't call those shrouds bound to
wooden crosses with ball gags and manacles tied to
their ankles SKELETONS per se as they are mere
vestiges of my former self- my former identity- my former
day to day life.
You see, where I work now is filled with corporate
mystery. So many people I have met lead alternative
lives. We have Sh and Tm- whom I affectionately call
"Wilson" after the volleyball in the movie "Cast Away"
(don't ask me why I do that...). He runs a Videography
service on the
If it only was a $20....I truly can't believe that asshole expected me to do
something more than what I did? Didn't I give him
enough limelight to warrant a little bit more of a tip?
What a fucking dickweed. But in general It had been a
pretty steady night. The dancing had been fun and I
hadn't felt the nervous knots in front of the crowd at all.
Even though I had been stripping for over 6 months, I
still got those butterflies in my stomach many times
when I went out on stage.
This particular night, I had been in my favorite teddies
from Victoria's Secret. They were all blue, and the color
of the lingerie matched the blue of my eyes perfectly.
One of the other girls had done my make-up, too, so I
had felt confident about the way I looked. I made sure to
wear my matching garter, as I really hated it when the
men tried to feel me up when putting their tip in my gstring.
Each time I got to dance, my garter had gotten
several bills stuck under it. It seemed like the entire
stage was completely surrounded, which w
BlowI woke to find myself naked, dehydrated and
confused to say the least. Maybe it was the coke, could
have been the rum and--- wait who the hell is this chic
next to me? She's naked so it's safe to assume that my
cocktail of addictions took over my life again.
But how did I get to this point? Like to this very
moment, how in the hell did I end up naked in a bed with
The last thing I remember I'm sitting at an NA
meeting, talking about how I finally have control of my
coke problem and how I hadn't used in almost three
Way to make a liar out myself.
Here I am 12 hours later, nose caked up, head
pounding and I'm trying not to move in fear of waking
this girl up. She looks familiar but what does that really
mean any more? Nice body, pretty face. Jesus she still
has blow on the outside of her nose, and all over her
cleavage. I'm an animal.
I gotta get out of here. Do I wake her? I mean
how do I do this? Do I wake her get her number with the
false hopes that I'll actually c
MonsterYou won't know me, that I promise, but you'll
know my kind. You'll have sniggered at me at some
point in your life, everyone has, but I wasn't always like
this. I used to be like you. I had hopes and dreams, I
had a life, a wife, and even at one point I had children.
I'd love to be able to tell you that at the end of this story
there'll be an uplifting beat, something for you to nod at
and think 'okay, cool. That guy had a point,' but there
won't be I'm afraid because this just isn't that kind of
story. You may walk away from me now if you like.
You'll know where to find me if you change your mind at
a later date, at the end of this, or any one of the other
bars in this crazy little town.
Okay then, well in that case you might as well pull
up a chair and I'll get Phil the trusty barman to pour you
a drink because hell, we might as well toast to our
health, at least we've got that, right?
There was a time not all that long ago when I
looked like you, so young, so excite
Prelude to "PURE"This is a work of reality fiction. Remember that- that
phrase- I coined it. It is my creation.
However, some of it bares truth- I will leave it to the
reader to decide which words are truth and which are
falsified- after all, it is all about your perception, no?
We are all 'reality' addicts- we are always jonesing for our
latest fix- on who we can relate our paltry little lives to- or
sympathize with, or envy, or hate. We have become slaves
to this 'real' world- trapped inside a blank video screen- to
'youtube'.-we yearn for the latest and the greatest new
'star'- login to our 'myspace' and 'facebook' accounts
incessantly seeking to socially network degenerates such as
ourselves. We are likewise- addicted.
We are all addicts jonesing for our latest 'fix'....
For we are all, very, very broken souls.
Here's to our salvation- our freedom- and to our realization
that things are not always as they seem- but rather, how
we wish them to be- in our fantasies- or in our darkest
Drunk seducerDrunk Seducer
Among all of my friends, there are three that have
made my life, interesting at best. Edith was one. She
was a stunning and sultry blond that could melt any
man's knees, she was also the girlfriend to one of my
They lived across the street from me and had a beautiful
little girl that was 9 months old. She was half the age of
my son and that was one of the things that Edith and I
spent a lot of time talking about. I think my friend, Jack,
was a bit afraid that I was going to steal her or
something. He always acted weird when the three of us
were around. Grant I was a single parent, but I was also
a friend. Friends don't do that.
To compound upon this, Jack was musician and a good
one at that. I have played a lot of his music at the clubs
and it was getting a good following. Matter of fact, it was
getting requests on certain nights as well.
One night, Jack had decided to spend the evening out
with some band mates and Edith took offense to this.
She had made
Addicted to good mannersHi. My name is Edith. I'm annoyed. Well, mostly I'm
miffed because I have a boyfriend that cares more about
lap dances and women at a strip club than yours truly and
last time I checked I was still under 25, had a DD
rack, a killer body and looser inhibitions when
intoxicated- AND I didn't charge a dollar a grind.
(Although I suppose I could but I didn't want to cheapen
myself like that). While I was in the bathroom stripping
out of my post club filth and getting into my pj's I couldn't
help to think. Women- although we are wonderful lovely
creatures deserving of praise and some degree of
turpitude- are rather dumb when it comes to some things.
Well, men are a definite TRUE- and then again- I was
thinking back to the bathroom at the club. Strippers are
pigs when it comes to hygiene and to bathroom
manners! Don't get me wrong- I was there- I WAS ONEso
I have every right in the world and then some to talk
as much slop as I like about the little vermin piggies.
Oink. Snort. Ok. Carrying o