Totally Sober

I have been reading.

If you are a stupidhead, you don't read The Collagist! It always amazes me.The words in this one stab me in the eye and make me feel like a failure of a human being who attempts to create words.

I am not kissing Dave Erlewine's black ass when I say that I would like to date, then be girlfriend with, then be engaged to, and then marry and then have babies and then divorce and then remarry the new issue of JMWW he put together. There are no duds in the bunch. EVERY PIECE GAVE ME SOMETHING. Jarrid Deaton, Ethel Rohan, Sheldon Lee Compton, Roxane Gay, Mat Bell, Molly Gaudry, Robert Swartwood, Ben Loory, Scott Garson, it's like an awesome salad with kickass dressing on the side. READ IT NOW! EVERY PIECE IS LIKE MORTAL KOMBAT IN YOUR EYBRAINS!

I think this video is super funny. Like, I seriously bust out laughing every time i watch it. Like, if someone could make this into a ringtone for me, I would send them a nice picture.





monkey bicycle too Sheldon Lee Compton busts a move in my boxer shorts. (erection!)

A fancy new sexy beast of a Thieves Jargon and a sweet porn story.

PICTURE OF MYSELF I CHICKENED OUT AND DELETED!

Go subscribe to the new Orange Alert Podcast. Some dude named Scott McClanahan will read you an awesome story with an awesome matching accent in an awesome fashion. You don't even have to dance for him first.

New (s)PANK that I have yet to partake of. A delicious feast for the mindbrains, I'm sure....

And Word Riot has a cool piece by my man Thom Young, and the David Erlewine and this dude who is funny on Twitter EVERY TIME named Jeff Chon.

Every morning I wake atop my cot in the rectory. My nightdress bunched underneath me trapping me in position. It's a morning wrestle of daily proportions.

Every night I tell God that if he really appreciates my service, that he would render useless my clitoris so that I may more easily avoid the temptations of the flesh.

He never answers.

And every morning, after the wrestling, I reach down to check and it's always still there.

Are You Back? Are You Rich and Asian?

Thank you to all my pervy readers. You are very appreciative. Some of you are VERY appreciative. Shockingly appreciative. I guess I didn’t actually expect to get much of a response. BUT I UNDERESTIMATED YOU!! I apologize. Now I feel loved. And dirty. And bad. And dirty. But what else is new?

I have NAME OF MY BLOG. I guess I could talk about my dream sandwich again. What? I never told you about my dream sandwich?! Oh geez! If I haven’t then I must! It’s just this amazing sandwich that I dream about whenever I’m not eating it. They make it at this dive bar restaurant place I go to when the weather is good. They have this outdoor patio and it gets really sunny back there and you can almost pretend you are not in the middle of a slum when you are eating there. I always eat the dream sandwich with an ice cold black n tan served to me by a MILF style waitress. I have my sunglasses on so I can stare at her boobs. (She is usually only wearing a tank top and a jean skirt and these platform type of sandals) Every time she comes to my table she leans down to give me stuff like, silverware and napkins and ketchup and my beer and my dream sandwich and smiles and polite questions leaning and leaning and with all this leaning comes boobs. After my second black n tan I usually start thinking about getting her to ‘help’ me in the women’s room that has exposed beams and plumbing fixtures that I think my parent’s house used to have like in 1978 maybe. The bathroom is really busted, like a jacked up homeless lady’s face, but kinda adorable like a grandma hobo lady. I like, tell her, the milftress, that something is jacked up in the bathroom and when she comes in, I close the door and lock it and then bow chicka bow bow I tell her how sexy she is and brush her hair back from her face sort of and she’s sort of confused and surprised but then, she gets it. And I start kissing her and she sort of ‘lets me’. Like she leans back against the wall, and I go at it. Sucking her tongue, her lips, just kissing and kissing her soft mouth. Then I start rubbing her breasts through her shirt and I feel her nipples get hard and I’m thinking, I’m really doing this, like, I’m the boy here. And she makes a little noise and then some more and I’m like, I want to make her make more noise, so I pull her tank top down and pull her bra down and use both my hands to feel her breasts. Squeezing them and pinching her nipples and then I take my mouth off of hers and move it down and start sucking and licking on her nipples and it’s so fucking great. I’m getting completely wet, and excited and she’s digging her hands into my hair and moaning. So I’m just completely suckling and licking and tugging her hard little nipples with my teeth because she makes more noise when I do this, and well, fuck, I totally forgot to tell you about the dream sandwich! It’s this fresh (not pressed) turkey that they roast there, and then serve it on grilled sourdough with jack cheese melted over a roasted Ortega chili and it comes with a handful of steak fries.

It’s so frickin’ delicious! OMG! I WANT ONE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mmmmmmmmmmmm...................Dream Sandwich!

Reader Appreciation

If you would like to send me photos showing me how nicely your belt buckle matches your new shoes, I will gladly review and appreciate your fashion sense. If you would like to send me a photo that depicts your beautiful man V, whether it’s naked or gently furred, I will be sure to keep it ‘between us.’ A photo of a hard on threatening the strength of denim is a seductress. I can appreciate the beauty of things I will never memorize with the length of my tongue or the pads of my fingers or the grip of my palm.

Me and you.

You and me.

Nobody needs to know.

notimetosayit@gmail.com

I thank you in advance.

About Choking

Ever since I got choked by the two Daves (go buy Wrong Tree Review) , I’ve wanted it more. It’s confusing, I know. Why anyone would want that? You go be a girl. Maybe you’d understand it more. Maybe you need to be this girl. I don’t know. I know I’m a little fucked up. But I think this ‘like’ comes from the same place in a woman that makes her have rape fantasies. Of being ‘taken’ by a man. Feeling helpless. Dunno. I’m no psychoanalyst. I’m just a pervert.

Being choked; it’s a relinquishing. When I get choked, it’s like I am held aloft by my throat; airborne. Everything below my neck goes soft and melts like a puddle. There is a feeling of air beneath my feet. A lightening. It’s a gentle contradiction to the hand gripping strong around my throat. From my throat up, it’s all business, it’s fight or flight. There are two worlds living in one moment. It’s heady.

A good choker knows balance. Knows when to cut your airflow off and knows when to give it back to you, knows when to just make prone the head; all the pressure against the underside of the jaw and not the esophagus. A sick fuck, or a man, has these skills, garnered from where? From what? Or are they just inherent? (The procreating brain of a male, maybe? Deep down inside the animal part of the brain?) The club the woman with the stick, drag her back to the cave to make babies part of a male.

A strong man with a hand on your throat can make you do many things and they will make you let them do many things to you. They are in control. You are not. You just obey. There are repercussions when you do not. They are immediate and they are serious. You do what you are told.

I don’t know how to end this. I guess you can unfollow my blog if this grosses you out or if I disgust you. It’s cool. I mean, sometimes I give out toys to kids in cancer wards but I guess I don’t really tell you about that. There’s beautiful and ugly in everyone. It all depends on what you choose to look at. And, remember, not everyone shows you their ugly as much as I do; as much as I choose to, and I dunno, maybe that could be considered beautiful too; showing you so much of my ugly.

Whatever. It’s too late to turn back now. You do what you want. I'll respect your decision.

Wanna Blindfold It With My Tongue

My hair today is dirty and twisted cords, wild. Chaotic yarn. It’s a frozen model head toss mess. It’s strings of 22 pt. Arial Black font. It stays where I put it and then does whatever it wants. It gives me no choices. At some point today, a teenage boy will stare at it and feel something dangerous warming and tightening his smooth and pretty scrotum. At some point today, while inside of his Jameson fog dream, a drunk man will beg me to let him put his hands into it . At some point today six girls and women will be angry at my hair while absentmindedly fingering their own; liquid, smooth and kempt.

Today I wait for an Englishman to say my name up close where I can feel it warm against my neck.

I want to say something about being choked.

I want to fall in love again today.

And I will do that. I will.

People Named "Ham" Will Never Make It Far In This Judgemental World We Live In

--If they’re talking they’re not fucking.

-------Tonight, a girl sits bedside with the words, becoming unresponsive, a waking nightmare in her anguished heart.

-But you. You allow yourself to twist with meaningless anger. You. Can’t ever recommend yourself to anyone’s heart.

---------------No, wait, me.

-----The slowest hole you will ever dig is the one you will bury yourself in. Even with a Gilligan’s Island shovel.

---------------I brought them ice cream. Like a mom. I wore a smile as big as my face.

and you were laughin' at my helmet hat, laughin' at my torch

I am having a nostalgic infestation of Ben Folds Five music. I have re-purchased two of their albums within the last week because apparently I lose shit and I have been playing all of their songs on shuffle in my car whenever I am driving and I play that shit LOUD. And all of their shit is only piano, bass and drums, so I am clearly THUMPING my way from here to there.

Yes, that’s me.



I used to be BIG into BF5. Back in the day, I think I saw them live maybe seven times; some in LA, some in San Francisco, once in San Diego. I met both Robert Sledge and Ben himself at this one show in San Diego, late 90’s I guess. I found Robert out back behind the venue where they were unloading the equipment trucks. (I had him sign my cd sleeve. Gay!!!) Ben I met because he walked past us while we were waiting in line and I saw him drop some money right before he went inside the venue. So I, like a geek, ran down, picked up the bill he had dropped ($20) and knocked on the venue door until security opened it up. I explained how the skinny, dorky looking dude dropped a twenty and I was here to give it back to him. (Now that I’m typing this I’m guessing I could’ve totally lied to the security guard just to get to ‘meet’ Mr. Folds, but I guess I wasn’t that devious back then.) Anyway, they got Ben to come out and I completely forget what we talked about, I’m sure I gushed about his music and whatnot, but we talked for a while, and he thanked me for returning his money.

After the show he was signing t-shirts off to the side of the stage. I waited patiently for him to make his way down the line of waiting fans. When I handed him my t-shirt, he took it and then looked at me, did a sort of double-take, smiled and proceeded to sign my shirt. He handed it back to me and I thanked him. Stepping back from the crowd, I held open the shirt to check out his signature and found he had written, “Thanks for the $20. Ben Folds.”

I wore the fuck out of that shirt. Still have it somewhere.

Anyway.



I probably haven’t really listened to these albums in maybe eight years or something. But, fuck, when I hit shuffle and their songs started to come out through my car speakers, I just automatically started belting out the words like I’d been singing them all the day before. It’s so funny how that works. Like, I’d hear the intro of, let’s say, “Philosophy” and my conscious mind was like, Man, I love this song, but what the heck are the first lines? But as soon as the words kicked in, there was my mouth singing every one of them. Perfectly, too. Every single word.



I was gonna talk about other stuff, but now that I went down into Ben Folds Five memory lane, I totally forgot whatever else I was gonna say. Oh well, it would’ve probably been stupid stuff anyways.

wtf pwm 2.1

Hi. I'm in wtf pwm's 2nd issue. When I read their first issue, I was like, I HAVE TO BE IN THIS MAG! And I knew just the piece I wanted to submit to them, which they accepted within a week, I think.

It's a little thing I wrote a long time ago that, yes, is a little strange, but I just loved it. I love these two little boys. I want to rescue them. I don't know why, but I just love them and want to adopt them and save them.

I hope you like it. I mean, I guess I hope you like everything I write, ha ha.

Anyway, read it here.