AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.

11/15/06

moving on 11/15/06

Subject : moving on [also: why omalara will fuck her gardener]
Posted Date: : Nov 15, 2006 8:17 PM

so i think ive moved on. i think ill always vasilate on how much i love her, but i know there is a basic unit of love there, im just not sure of the units numeric value. chalk it up to a last year of college and a first real college relationship.

anyway... moving on from what was [its been nearly a half year process including the two and a half weeks of withdrawal] it recently occured to me on a trip home this past weekend why a girl i knew in high school even spoke to me at all.

omalara. she was carribean, big boobies, nice twists in her hair, nice lines, all that and/or a bag of chips. she never seemed to notice me unless it was a monday. on the bus rides home on mondays she'd give me blow jobs. no not really, but it woulda been awesome if she had. she did chat me up pretty hard until she had to get off the bus. so this one monday i was sitting next to her and i was pissed off because there was still some gasoline in my back pack (i was a lawnmower in the spring to make money) and it stank up my books. The minute i pulled out my texts for my class there she was on the back of my chair saying whats up. i told her about how fuckin pissed i was cuz my shit smelled like gasoline and she just completed threw her arms around me.

she said she loved the smell of gasoline. that explained it all. thats why she only talked to me on mondays after a weekend of riding my bike to gas stations with a gas can in my bag to fill up my little lawn mower. i wish i could have mowed her lawn. that woulda been nice. but anyway. i think that little fact is why she will definitely be one of those people who fucks her gardener. all that fuel in the air... rippling muscles... probably no shirt on... she wont be able to resist. at this point in my life my only chance of ever getting in her pants will probably be to literally mow her lawn. hopefully itll work out nicely.

otherwise ill have to stick to my other plan of attending doctorate parties and picking up phone numbers of soon to be very wealthy and career minded women. that way i can call them up later on in life when im still sprye and they're too burnt out to find a man to ring their bells. call it an investment strategy. i couple of purchase cosmopolitans now may very well equal set-for-life later.

i think im gonna redo my front page too. eventually. its nice to move on. its been a long war.
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