Lazy Weekend
Nobody reads these, huh? *laughs*
I know, it's Hard. It requires time, thought, imagination, a
vocabulary... things most folks just don't have.
I don't care. If I Really wanted to snag you, I'd use hooks
with the bait.
However, in all fairness, maybe somebody out there Is actually into
these, in which case let me remind you that this is the fifth in
the Lazy series here on CL. If you can't find the others (or
are just
as lazy as I am) then drop me a note and I'll send you a link
to the ones I have archived on my site.
*sip*
It was pointed out to me (in real life, NOT from any of you people)
that folks here are, in general, kind of dim and sleazy, and
that perhaps lots of big words wasn't the best way for me to go.
Perhaps.
That's rather dependent upon what I'm doing and where I'm going though,
isn't it?
If all I wanted was a fast fuck I'd shell out the bucks and hire a
professional.
If all I wanted was some shoulder to boo hoo on I'd call up a comrade
and wail away.
Naw... it's something else.
So why the 'women seeking men' column if I don't wanna pound you 'till
your toes curl and splooge goo all over your body?
*sip*
It's the audience.
Platonic, Rants, podcasts, my site... Those things broadcast to the
world in general.
In theory this forum is read by mostly chicks and gay guys lookin' to
yank some poor schmucks chain....
Comrades? Don't think your gender gives you a monopoly on
male bashing 'cause it doesn't.
Men Suck.
If they were so great then You wouldn't be here. You wouldn't
Have to be here.
But here we are *shrugs*
*sip*
I've been kickin' around this neck of the woods for seven years now and
I've only met ONE 'man'. A big black dude, head
chef at a greasy spoon in some dive up the Hudson. He was
GAY. He wasn't butch, he wasn't foo foo, he was,
however, a Man. A Real Man. He wasn't 'fear free'
but he
was 'fearless'. He was Actualized. He was
Real. I
loved the guy a
lot. He was the only reason that job was bearable.
One of
those dudes who knows where it's at, what it is, and where it's
going. I dug on him a lot.
I worked as a mover for a while with a buncha tough dudes... ex cons,
kids from Harlem, bozos from the Bronx. They all
talked a good story. They all could twist me into a figure
eight and
toss my sorry ass into the river, big tough strong guys....
Until we got a gig upstate in the sticks. Big gig, big house,
lotsa big heavy shit. But it was in the sticks. And
there
were
Bugs. Never heard so many girlie screams in my
life.
Bugs. And I'm not talking Wasps or Scorpions here, I'm talking
Lady Bugs and Butterflies *rolls eyes*
Oh, but that ain't the half of it. Comin' home one night our
van
blew a whatsit and there we were, dead along the side of the
road in the middle of nowhere. No cell reception. NO
LIGHT.
Zip. Pitch fucking Black. I was in
heaven. I hadn't
had a
good silent dose of the stars in many years (and I tell you, even
though they were awesome, it was still Nothing like a good
night back on the rock in Alaska)
They lost it. Each and every one of them turned into freeked
out
blubbering idiots. I couldn't believe it.
'Dude! You did seven
years in a federal prison! Yo! Yer a gangbanger
that
(supposedly) capped more dudes than Al Capone! And You are a
Bronx
Boy that eats nails for breakfast then shits bricks for
giggles! What Is With You Guys??? It's Just Dark!"
Needless to say, I was the pussy that had to walk the four miles back
to a pay phone and call the dude to come fix the whatsit
on the truck *sighs*
Oh well. Good luck with your quest.
Rock on