#and saying its the plastic surgery is a cop out. if u want to say it say it with ur whole chest

[nailgunstigmata]

people being like „what happened to rob omg look at how cute he was as a twink 🥺🥺🥺“ are so funny like. girl he aged

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

[skold]

answer all the cards against humanity questions?

under a cut. thank

A defective condom: Do you want kids someday?

fuck no i hate children

Unfathomable stupidity: What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said or done?

honestly nothing is coming to mind immediately??

Getting into her pants, politely: How do you tend to flirt?

i don’t

Horrifying laser hair removal accidents: Would you ever consider getting plastic surgery?

i want a nose job but like, i’m not gonna actively pursue it i guess bc i know i don’t have that kinda money

Saxophone solos: What’s your guilty pleasure band/music genre?

i don’t really consider anything i listen to a guilty pleasure because i don’t feel guilty about listening to things that i enjoy

Vigorous jazz hands: What’s something you get irrationally excited about?

JOHN 5?? TIM SKOLD?? THE SAW FRANCHISE?? MY FICS?? what don’t i get irrationally excited about

A sad handjob: What’s the most awkward/funniest thing that’s happened to you during sex?

fell off a bed ??

Insatiable bloodlust: Have you ever beaten someone up? If so, what for?

nah

A 55-gallon drum of lube: What’s your weirdest, most shameful kink?

I’M ALWAYS TELLIN’ Y’ALL: YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW

Mufasa’s death scene: What’s something that always makes you cry?

there’s nothing that like, makes me “rebagel if u cri every tiem”, but sometimes i get overwhelmed and cry over dumb shit like pictures of tim skold doing weird faces

Drinking ten 5-Hour Energies to get fifty continuous hours of energy: What’s the longest continuous amount of time you’ve been awake?

like 26-28 hours probably

A disappointing salad: What’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten?

my hawaiian family members are about to sense a disturbance in the force, but poi. poi and guinness are the two worst things i have ever tasted

Being nine years old: What were you like as a kid?

i was a traumatized little abuse victim dude i don’t remember shit

Some really fucked-up shit: What’s the most dickish thing you’ve ever done?

idk dude i’m not really that much of a dick

A cop who is also a dog: Have you ever been arrested? If so, why?

nah

Changing a person’s mind with logic and facts: Have you ever actually managed to convince someone with stupid opinions to change their mind?

maybe not change his mind, but i’ve had to explain a lot of shit to my stepdad who’s a pretty conservative republican. but like he actually listens to me most of the time

A zero-risk way to make $2000 from home: Have you ever fallen for what was, in hindsight, an obvious scam?

i don’t think so

Teaching a girl how to handjob the penis: Would any of your partners, past or present, say you’re good in bed?

idk ask her lmao

Gay thoughts: When did you really start to realize your sexual orientation?

i knew something was weird by like, 8 or 9, but i actually figured shit out at like 12 i think

Albert Einstein but if he had huge muscles and a rhinoceros cock: What’s a historical figure you truly admire?

jfk tbh

Peeing into a girl’s butt to make a baby: How did you learn where babies come from?

i think my mom explained the whole thing to me

Consensual, nonreproductive incest: Do you have any ships that Tumblr would hate you for?

yeah, consensual, non-reproductive incest ships

Getting caught by the police and going to jail: Have you ever done time?

nope

A sweaty, panting leather daddy: Have you ever actually had kinky sex?

kinky sex nah but i’ve done nonsexual bdsm irl

Bees?: Have you ever actually watched Bee Movie in its entirety?

no lmao

The Abercrombie and Fitch lifestyle: Would Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way consider you a goth or a prep?

a goth, most likely

Actually getting shot, for real: How do you want to go?

let’s be honest i’ll probably end up killing myself eventually, it’s just a matter of when. next week?? next year?? when i’m 30?? 40?? 80?? who knows

[miss-butter]

Things I Thought That Were Not COVID (January - June) Ending

~having journaling sessions so intense I get a headache 

~ the RHONY cast casually drinking martinis plural at bars like it's a chill thing to do and they're not immediately going to black out?? Damn. 

~ e v e r m o r e 

 ~ the intensely stressful harmonica opening of All I Really Want while Alanis wails "do I stress you out" over the top of it 

~ today I feel like an eye that opened very very wide. What I saw was a door, opening 

~ through the fog I thought the city was the sky 

~ I carry all of this inside of me. It makes me very still 

~ "I am slow as the world. 

I am very patient, 

Turning through my time, the suns and stars 

Regarding me with attention. 

The moon's concern is more personal: 

She passes and repasses, luminous as a nurse. 

Is she sorry for what will happen? I do not think so. 

She is simply astonished at fertility." 

~ people with no self awareness/people with no sense of humor about themselves truly need to go live on a farm away from me 

~ the piano player that lives below me, the guitar player that lives above me 

~ "the sun whose rays are all ablaze" 

~ Room Memory I: the PERFECT sensation. Wearing my coat with a bagful of plastic spoons in my hands, leaping into krts car that smelled like dogs and cigs and is a smell that makes me feel so warm. Going over the bridge into Minneapolis chatting with them while the radio played (krts parents would play the radio, old and new, it was a thing I have never ever stopped appreciating). The times we'd get snacks at the theatre, dreaming of the day we'd be old enough to look upstairs (we haven't yet). The dark room, the laughter in the shadows and the feeling of fulfillment and validation. How their parents were there to collect us after and I got to see them on the Monday after that night. 

~ Room Memory II: me and emma and bast going to see it in the winter of a year I can't remember. Driving across the Minneapolis bridge in a snow storm, slow but with intention. We arrived early, and saw a cat on it's way home before taking shelter in a late night kowalskis. They had never seen it before, and I think my friend Eric was there but that might have been another time. Laughter, darkness. Emma drove home in the blizzard, tracking over deep, deep, inches of snow in the dark over the bridge and home. When we got back my parents were asleep, and I remember us piling our feet over the vent to catch the heat in my living room. Oh, babes. 

~ why do people ask where the love you had for a person goes when that person is no longer with you?? As though feelings are so easily generated that you can just release a life that you led and say "that goes there now, away". I think I'm STILL feeling everything I've ever felt in my life, nothing can truly ever go away. Also, the idea that because a person is no longer beside you that that somehow influences how you feel and what you feel and when you feel it! Can't relate. 

~ That Scene in Frances Ha where they fight in the bathroom and: 

Sophie: You're bullshit, and you're making me feel really bad right now. 

Frances: I want to love him if you love him, but you don't love him. 

Sophie:  I DO. 

Frances: Sophie, I fucking held your head while you cried, I bought special milk for you, I know where you hide your pills, don't treat me like a three hour brunch friend. 

Sophie: I'm not talking to you while you're like this. 

~ I never would have known, but there are pieces of me only Paul and Fred can reach. I want to go back to my Little Self, the first time I saw Fred, probably hungover, wiping sleep out of his eyes in that chair in Brownville, and whisper: "that's your brother. That's your real brother." She might burst into tears and never stop weeping with joy. That she had a brother who was a good man. A man of character. 

~ I got fired, and two days later I allowed myself to get packed into a truck and taken to a lake. On the way there I stopped at the first restaurant I'd been to since march, and I was so scared I slurped down three vodka sodas with a burger. When I arrived it felt like a miracle, like paradise. I remember everyone went to the beach in the twilight but I stayed, and sat on the patio and smoked a stolen cig, and listened to The Beautiful Ones 5 times thinking of how badly I'd like to be a nun because I couldn't stand the thought of other people. Somehow the moment still makes me feel so. Just So. Hearing it now is like seeing a ghost. 

~ do all people feel this way? Oscillating between airy fulfillment and vanilla scented oblivion? When I think about death I think of little sideways smiles, heavy lids, radiator squeaks, That Tree I still see in my memories. Somedays I feel like I'm full of Cool Whip, otherwise gelatinous, heavy, falling apart like an aspic. 

~I still refuse to be sorry that I find some of the things lena dunham does and says to be funny, suck my hood 

~ I constantly see tweets and stories that go something like "I told my 4 year old ____ and then they *insert action or phrase no 4 year old would ever do or say*. Yes, brilliant child. Yes." Like....the compulsive need to make shit up about your child in order to appeal to strangers on the internet is a form of Munchausen by proxy we as a society would do well to reckon with. It wasn't ok when those lesbians with the adopted kids made their son hug that cop, it's not cool for your "cute" tweet, babe. 

~ people who refer to their pets as "fur babies" have either tried to or successfully gotten their pets to eat them out. You can't change my mind. 

~ the stars in Death Valley 

~ next year in Nebraska 

 ~ it's beshert. No matter what you choose, no matter where it goes, the act of looking and of learning was beshert. This moment was meant to be. 

~ it's going to be such a bummer when my tits start to go off to the side when I lay down. How can we endure it? 

~ family: watching musicals with The Boys, swearing that we'll go to NYC together. Fred's face, Paul's smile, the sound of MEMORY let your Memory lead you I remember a time I knew what happiness was let the Memory live again 

~ I'm too upset to write / I'm too upset not to write 

~ the bruise, the deep round bruise, the lump beneath it 

~ $80,000 each; $240,000 total after amendments 

~ I lean to my wound, I lean to my wound 

~ disgusting girl, nasty pie-faced thing filled with fruit the color of plastic gems. Veins plugged up with sugar, eyes full of stars. 

~ its lucky to not be bothered at all by blood, I must have been born under something (or over something) 

~ this is the worst lead up so far I've ever had. Utterly alone, unsupported by....who? The r u b i c o n, the gentry, even the rabble. Sitting in a lukewarm tub, soaking the wound, empty head in the room between shitting and living. Thank god for grapefruit chapstick, and for Them. 

~I'm.......babing out 

~ how nice for her, how nice for him, how nice for everyone  (breaks glass in my fist) 

~ I am the drug that you need, shoot me up shoot me up 

~ Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female was a definite top 

~ muttering to myself in a Mark Wahlberg voice just to get a good giggle 

~ making things for my brothers daughter; playing peeks with Jeremy; reading a book with John; playing sticks with natalie; talking about books with Noah. Being a woman with five nieces and nephews to watch grow up. 

~ “She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.” 

~ Nora Ephron, and Melissa Broder. The now maligned art of self-confessional writing that I find infuriating when men do it (woody allen) but not unlike sinking into a hot bath when a n y o n e else does it. 

~ My dad telling me about his golf tournament, my dad telling me stories of seeing bands in the 70s, my dad finding out who Blac Chyna is and saying "she's amazing", my dad knowing every character ever on Law and Order, my dad and Noah bent over a chessboard, my dad taking a splinter out of my sisters finger. 

~ if I was a Housewife my tagline would be: "my attitude isn't MY problem, it's yours!" 

~ I have a recurring nightmare where I went to my first day of Spanish class and then just never returned? And I knew I was going to fail but for some reason really wanted to make it to the final bc that might make a difference? True claustrophobic panic. 

~ I have an incurable disease? I have an incurable disease! 

~ a m e r i c a n  w o m a n 

~ DR Q: should I be on antibiotics until surg? Ointment yes. What in detail will happen after surg/how will it heal/will it heal? If the wound is not going to heal after surgery is it necessary to do it at all? Down the line, when can I have sex? Can I take full body baths? Is there a specialist I can take these to? Should I shave before surg? Infections? 

~Potential Bday Marathon w bois: Big Lebowski, Wild, Stand By Me, Almost Famous, Frances Ha 

~ I am going to be well, I am going to heal, and I am going to be better one mesh shirt and gauze pad at a time 

~ Tommy Wiseau saying "I've sumfin fer youuuuu" 

~ hating the Grateful Dead SO much but knowing all the words to Box of Rain. Singing it in the bath first thing in the morning while my coffee brews. 

~ I've been making this list for a year 

~ "Butt out, Baby" 

~ What I have done I was compelled to do 

~ sitting here in this humid April heat, remembering the blizzard last Easter, with Band of Brothers episode 5 on the tv, a lavender candle flaming, a message from Fred flitting across my screen like a dear little bird, my disease pulsing in my cells, my hair long in a ponytail, thinking of my brothers wedding in a few days. I've cried three times. 'You should be so lucky,' I think, over and over again. 'You should be so lucky to have this love, to have room for this pain. Le douleur exquise.' Thank you and thank you and thank you (and, if you have time, let me heal) 

~on the phone with Natalie, laughing hysterically as she takes shots and calls me Marat 

~ Last night in my dream the doctor called my wound "the bog" 

~ I might....actually want to watch Desperate Housewives again 

~ the dinner the RHONY gals have in the Berkshires season 8 is my IDEAL meal, just a roast chicken with herbs de provence, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and cranberries. 

~ Again, tonight in the bath: 

"Just a box of rain 

Wind and water 

Believe it if you need it 

If you don't, just pass it on 

Sun and shower, wind and rain 

In and out the window like a moth before a flame 

And it's just a box of rain 

I don't know who put it there 

Believe it if you need it 

Or leave it if you dare 

And it's just a box of rain 

Or a ribbon for your hair 

Such a long long time to be gone 

And a short time to be there" 

 ~ a really cathartic thing to do is throw ice cubes at the wall 

~ crying on the kitchen floor and thinking of amy winehouse singing: "I cried for you on the kitchen floor." 

~  note for later: what are you doing? What are you d o i n g ? Get out, get out, get out. It ain't shit, babe. Ain't shit. 

~ you're a woman of genuine wit, write what you feel and how you're feeling it. Someone, someone, someone anywhere will see it and will cheer 

~ that season of vanderpump where schaena fucked adam and denied it the whole time but was so obviously in Love with him while he could care less about her, culminating in her adopting a penguin from the zoo and giving him the gift of it. She named it after him. Imagine loving someone that much that you would do this. 

~ the loveliness of a braid. A braid in hair, in rope, in bread. How a figment becomes a pattern, becomes history slapping against my shoulders. 

~ spring cleaning for mothers day. Egg salad and a nip of whiskey after dark. Feeling very old and yet very at sea 

~ A Thought: I should think about my neighbors on my death bed. I hear them speak through my walls, the boy that gets in screaming philosophical arguments and the upstairs girls who shriek. My neighbors who stomp, and my neighbors who dance all around me, the ones who were groaning in pain in the stairwell before going quiet. I can hear their laughter, and I've thrown things towards it and felt bad about it later. Their pianos on cold fall afternoons, and the late night guitar they probably think nobody hears. The couple with the large, spindly dog who isn't allowed to be here, and the cat that I pet on the stairs, the barefoot boy cradling his cat in his arms after the fire alarm went off, the chic looking lady with her carrier. The girl I went to college with, hidden somewhere in here. The ones who've come, and who've gone. They've likely heard me, too; crying, coming, laughing until I have to scream into it. Maybe they hear my music, too. I've left them cough drops, left them notes, brought packages upstairs, held the door, gifted cups of detergent. I'll remember the bike, abandoned in the laundry room even when management kept sending emails about it. 

~ I'm afraid one day I'm going to turn around in bed and my wound will be my lover, my wound will be companion, who will press up against me as I make coffee, who will throb under my sheets, who will sit beside me as I eat dinner, drink a glass of wine. She weeps, and last night I thought: "do I make you wet, baby?" and I laughed. Hedwig says laugh because otherwise you'll cry, I'll remember it forever. When I laughed everything tightened up and I Hurt and Hurt. Tonight I'm very, very, very alone, and my bath radiated through me like I was a boiled lobster. When I watched RHONY naked I felt the wound put its hand on my thigh, and it felt like I was living with someone I didn't trust. Gone Girl hours. 

~ I look like a cloud 

~ I have a true disease of the soul and mind in which I'm not capable of forgetting anything. This must be due in part to me being a Leo and therefore being a righteous holder of grudges, but I can't even manage to forget a purchase I made at CVS that I didn't feel great about three years ago much less an interaction with a friend that isn't reflective of Either of us now but that fills me with rot. In this sense, retrospect hits me very hard because nothing ever leaves me. I'm like a desk and papers get piled on top of each other and sometimes it gets messy but each memory is just under the surface of another. Needless to say, if I tell somebody that I can't remember something I'm usually lying to them just to avoid being bored. Which is something to think about, to be sure. Anyway, tell me the story again. 

~ I feel naughty and covetous, big-titted and sharp-toothed and green-eyed and hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry. I always get this way when the whether turns hot. Everything is getting deeper, thicker. For the better and the worse. Keep your candy away from me or I'm going to take it from you. 

~ "My daughter. My last one. She's my sin. She's what I smeared on the world." 

~ the beginning of the summer I sweat, and I bleed, and crack, and i hate and hate, until. Until. The window must be left open, to let the lion in. While I sleep it crawls out of my closet and lays down upon me and I wake up with my hair in a snarl and an insatiable throbbing in my veins. The air is hot, and I'm ready to swallow the moon again. Be  r e b o r n. 

~ it's nice to meet you. I'm 26 years old, I'm a woman of cracks and fissures, a woman of unprentention who relishes pretending, baddest, chatterbox slut, writing gay porn every night if i can manage it, irremediable sky watcher, secret smoker, mainliner of unhip music, dizzy lady, silly goose. I think the moon is in my neighbors window, and I look up at the impression and thank her. 

~ I'm vaccinated, I'm going to a party at my sisters house, I have a person in my phone who I think likes me and I Know wants to fuck me. I've written 1,000 words every day this week. This year I’m spending my birthday in Nebraska. Let the season begin, let me move west into a long, brilliant wind.

[briefprincessbouquetworld-blog]

prostitutes in syria damascus 8 11 2017 re editied

prostitutes in syria damascus 8 11 2017 re editied

hi iam writing on all my observation   in damascus

its all lie what seem natural and normal its all fake when   u walk in street on normal day when shop open its fake all the people in the street  the worker in the shop the puplic normal people           u think u are suddenly in adirty bad no one  in god land saw and want to go to           wheres theres alot of trash in street beside shop close to building  

also  u need  to qualify to be  in same  place as them ..    so   u will  have fun  tested kicked

to qulify  theres  grades  if  u are fat  stupid  u will hate that place  for sure  if u  are  beautiful  10     u  will  be  gone   ..

where u walk and people hit u touch u and these are those fat gross people who make u poke          be aware these are all hired people               also the one inside  the shop   they need  to qualify  and have experince               or in street these old lady that can never find ajob  they all work with  a  girl seeking sex mony whatever the age from 8 old to very big also the old lady prefer small young boy  to enjoy    as there bodyguard

so all young female walk in the street far away from there home by miles  they take microbus in early morning   use whatever toilet  and work where normal people of the street either in there house dead sleeping or stuff and these girl if by 1 % chance someone saw  it from her family which is rare bec people either work or smart and busy somewhere .                                        

faking  clothes  and  guard  :     they can fake everything if she wants   like she can walk  with agroup as amother   sister  family father  who get   angry on   u   if u  annoy them     children   everything is available on her choice  in specific house  even  clothes  to chooose from whatever shit to play with    she can hide here whole  body and only show her eyes even wear dark glasses everything is alie  from all people   .     even  the  worker  in   the street or  shop  they  dont  sell  leather  bags  or  shoes    after  observation  they   sell   bags  to  them   after  agroup  of  female  every  day  go  to buy  from  them  in  avery  weird  way    because  its  boring     so  he  give  her   abag  she  pay  she   may   here   after  along  discusion    go  the  prostitue  house    then after  awhile  he  come  back  everyday   carrying  all the  bags  he  sell  to  these  shit   in adark   huge  plastic  bag  s  and  return  to  anew  day       so  nothing been  sell   sold .    also  alll  the  shop  around  all  the  same

ofcourse  they  have  all body language  of  manipulation from  shyness   to  asmile  to old fat  dad  who go blank  in his dream   and  walk  only  1  or  2  in that  street  like  dead .  

they  can also  humilate  u  with  smile  alot  now  has  low  respect  other learn  

and  they  really  annoy  u  like  when  u walk  close  to  asmoker  he  just  piece  of  trouble     want  humilate  u  to have  sex  with but   they  offer  alot         whatever  u  want   all  these  female  that there husband  doesnt  satisfy  them    they  go  buy bags    

they all stupid  just  bec  u have muscle  its  all easy to  discover  

so the shop around all the same  they go to avery expensive beautiful shop  with english brand name  as they make a releation  with outside  english  country name  and  when female go there they act  weird  if u look all the  people  know each other   and u get started  treated as someone who is sneeking  pooking  and following women and inside  they  want humilate  u  so  they get  there time of  rest  ofcoruse        the shop big  and nobody know whats inside  they take there time  in adeal and go out  and not  one    all the shop  and not one  place  now its  very  natural  in all  street  in damascus  they  thought  iam also  like this  and tried  alot  offer  me  

the female  go  to  shop and  people  or somehow  they go to other shop , but  shop very close  to each other  and  designed  with  worker  working  there to attack  u  if  u  annoy them  or  try  discover  something hide  there       ,  sex  seeking  customer  there  go to entrance  to  building  ,   there the    shops are  old   close  to each  other   with  all theses  entrance  and  exit   from  everywhere so    the  girl  go to ashop  inside  abuilding   maybe  1  floor  she  may even  go   by   an address  by these   bags  selling  people  there and  inside  its  avery  dim  with no  light  maybe  dirty    and  ofcourse  very  scary so  they are  off   for  unlimited  time  in  any  house  inn building

 in the street  theres alot of people  u may say  what  a poor people  selling  sweet candy  icecream  dosent they  have  better  stuff    they  sell  socket  for  foot    any shit   and  these  are  also people  guardaing   the street  the building  getting mony ....   also people  know them  so  when they  need  sex  they seek them  .

u can expect  anything  people  love  fuck   pregnant  women     and  imean  very beautiful one   .

u are  not  allowed   to carry  mobile  in   this  crowded  street  they   will  hit  u  and  make  it  fall  to the  ground   and  break    annoy  u  hit  u  expect  anything  and  all  the   female  in the  street  get  afraid  when u  put  the  camera  on them     they  manipuate   ur  thinking    they  must  trust  u  second   u   must  be  very  outstanding  so  she  risk  everything  so  u know her      also  very  muscular  man        they  all  know each  other   and   cummunicate  with  other   from  kilometer  away   .   whsile    ......

the  price   is  hell  cheap    in the   street   they  manipulate  word  ,  so they  sell  any  socks by  100sy pound   which mean  1000  for  sex  for  any  girl   .  

 i hear  this  price  alot  from  people .  

  theres avery  beautiful   female  begging  for mony  who  stand   and  all  the  kind  of  people  infront  of  female  school    ,  and  they  try   each  and  every  each  day  to  get  the  girl  over  and   over  again   by   mony   by  harassing  her  dont  froget  the  whole  street  for  them   and    the   normal  people   of  syria  they  are  all   working  and  far  away  with  only    cops  scatered  fat  stupid    with  belly   to reach there  mouth  and  happy  by  asmile  of  female  in   the  streeet     also  they  need  evidence  to  catch  criminal   and  when they  get  close   weird  stuff  happen  acar   suddenlly speed  up  and  almost  make  accident    with  very  high   sound   anything  he  may  get  hit   or  scream     whisle        u  can   say   he  get   totally  freaked  out   ofcourse   there  free   stuff  also  near  my  house  what  u  think  of  very religious   place  which  belong  to  hizb allah  or   secret  organization  russia    helping  bashar  is  aporn  house

near  my house  the military   gurding the street  also  help  people  in  all street  close  by to  have  sex   they  know  everything  but  they  may  say  these  need  to have  fun   .   and  also  they   may have  there  place     for  collecting  mony  .

   and  alot  people benifit  by  hiding  his  face  inside  this  weird   beard  helping  bashar   wear  glasses  so  u  can  say ,   alot  of   people  adult  in the street  the  same    glasses  bear   normal  casual  clothes   also  wear   military   jeans   so other  get afraid  and  we  are  in war  years  so  u  have  to  respect  and  help  military         which is  afake   sex  selling  guid      

and   for the building  working  on  sex wooo  they  are   unlimited  ucant  count   they are  everywhere      when  i  used   to  train   how  to  do  one  leg  squat in   street  i  started  to  notice  these  houses  even   more  deep  down  basment when  these  stupid  fatty  people  walk  on street  notice  nothing    they  have  fun    in basement      ,  the  building    and  alot  has  window  with  aglass  that  reflect  light  and  see  nothing      alot  of  houses  like  these     .    weired   why its  obvious  but  also  they can  make  alot  some  real  some  fake  they can  change  palces     periodically  also  they  have  other  room  in  building  .....   and    

so  u  dont  get  lost ,      u  see  down there  clerk   selling  stuff   like  something   more  expensive  than  peanut    or    exhausted   old  man   sitting  close  to  building  will  help  u .

in steet  u see  beautiful  girl  siting  and  after  awhile  acar  came  with  the  sound  of  her  father  touching  beep sound  of  car  as  he know  her  and  he came     she  get  in say  hello  and  go  out  and   speak  very  casually   in  night  she  can  make  afew  gisture   and  then   after  car  stop  for  few  second    it  goes  away     girl     go  in opposite  direction    and  they  go  both  in   circle  around  u and  the  building  and  she  get  with  him     .  

 i  dont  know  why     but  all  the porn  star    near  my  neighbour  love  me    , i  love  them and   iam  not  carry  any  grudge    bec  i  dont  care  ashit  about  these  people  manipulating  kid    and  deciving  other    bec   any  person  is  just   shit  and   i  can   make   million   kid s  in  short  time   and   all  these   people  are  there  fault  for  being  fat  not  observing  never  talked  to me   ,  its     just  a sperm  that u  can  make  .  simply  in the  face  of  anyone  ,       and  we  are  the  people  we  love  fun  and  we  want  make  success  future  success  and  all  these  manipulating  behavior  is  and  should  never   affect  us     in syria   i  can  make  as  much sex  as  i want   study  like the  best     and   have  fun     iam  close  to  becoming  miillonair   $$$$     so  after  all     this  shit   its  all  normal  allowed  fun  and   extra   lovly  stuff  offered  to  us  and   we  should  not  be  dirty   to  hide  places   and  iam  working  on my  abs   muscle  for  fun    and  my  future    assets    .

not  just  here  but  everywhere  when  people  treat  u  with   disrespect  they  are  being  hiding  something    ,  after  few  moment  i  go  work in factory  close  by   and  the   same  people   offer   me  free sex or  whatsoever   . and if u refuse  to get sex  with them  they will kick u outside  factory    .

inside  the  factory   in  very  large  transporting   truck      there  that  factory  go  very  deep  and  scary  inside   .......  and  alot  like  him  

but  its  alot  of   fun and  u learn a lot  if  u  are  good  person  

so  the  people  in  street  come  to  u  to  ask  for  mony  big  or  small  and  here  they  harrasse  u   even  if  u  dont  want  sex  they  start  touching  u when  u are  bored  and  annoyed     and  stimulating  u  and they are good or very beautiful 7  years  girl   but they  are  fucked  or  see  mom  have  sex  everyday  

also  the  resturant  how  ofcourse  sells  no  food  these  days  just  shesha    smoke    all  the  people  go  there  bec  its  fake  place  for  seeking  sex    but  they may  have  to  lie  to  u  when  u  walk   close   by  and   inhale  alittle       also  all    u  will get   annoyed     its    an  advance  place  and  how  doesnt  want  cheap sex   .

  so  .....stupid   building  infront  of  church  also  there  s  people  and  goverment   use  it  for  sex  not  sure  how  but  i dont  care  ashit  infront  it  all  building  weird      the  sell  carpet       sex  

and  other  transport  medical    stuff  in medical   metal box  rapped  with  green  clothe  of  surgery  .  also  this sex    

close by   they  sell  drugs  with  6  girl  as  secretary  very  secretive  and   with  bashar  alassad  photo  very big  on  th e wall        ,  and  the  women   differnt    and  sometime  they  make  gesture  to  me   .  

even  for  for  muslim   religious   people  they  also  secretly  love  this  help  other     by   marrying  for  few  days   and  if  u  report  these  stuff  to  them  u   went  the  wrong  place   .....as  afirst  start  

 for penalty    its  just  afew  bucks  or  ajail  1  month  maybe   nothing  more  no  killing  nothing   as   people  hear    

and  ofcourse  theres   newspaper  with  all  these  fake  story teller   all  fabricated  to  scare      other  fatty  husband  or  people  that  nothing  is  happening

in  the street  theres  specifc places  to find  whore  standing  in street  waiting with  specific  chinese fan   big  bag      that  all  people  with   specific   sign  know  .