Name: aenima Membership Status: Lifetime Member Age: 31 Sex: Male Sexuality: Monk Relationship: Worshipping Ven Occupation: Mad Chemist Location: Fairfield, ME. United States Original Children of Acid Member Member For: 12 years and 3 months Last Login: June 28th, 2010 1:40 PM
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love the light
b&w is sexy
selfpo
piss off
back road fun
foodtv anyone?
rainbow falls
scarred for life!
THIS IS MY RIFLE
Traded up!
i'm famous!
ink
HUGLAGHALGHALGHAL
blue mayhem
sexy is back
thinky thinky
My Bio
That's one of the remarkable things about life. It's never so bad that it can't get worse. -Calvin and Hobbes
i've come to the conclusion that anybody who yammers on endlessly about how terrible their life is and how depressed they are and how much they want to die...isn't and doesn't.
depression is the dreadful Nothing. it's everything you don't feel, don't think, and don't experience. it is the death of the spirit, death of the soul; it is the black hole which consumes your will to live as well as the desire to die.My dearest friend, if you don't mind, I'd like to join you by your side Where we can gaze into the stars..
And we'll sit together, now and forever, For it is plain as anyone can see, We're simply meant to be.Mercurial, snarky and distractible.The opposite of love isn't hate -- it's indifference. And if you hate me, it means you still care and we're still connected.A friend of mine, when he was thirteen years old, he heard about "pegging." This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo. Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can have explosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend's a little sex maniac. He's always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. He goes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a little private research. Then he pictures how it's going to look at the supermarket checkstand, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rolling down the conveyor belt toward the grocery store cashier. All the shoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening he has planned.
So my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline.
Like he's going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.
At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then – nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts.
Then this kid, his mom yells it's suppertime. She says to come down, right now.
He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.
After dinner he goes to find the carrot and it's gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.
This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him, And they never do. Ever. Even now he's grown up, the invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Even Easter-egg hunts with his kids, his parents grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them.
That's something too awful to name.
Not being a poet, and drunk as well, leaning into the diner and dawn and hearing a juke box mockery of some better human sound I wanted rhetoric but could only howl the rotten truth Norman Luboff should have his nuts ripped off with a plastic fork. Then howled around like a man with the final angst, not knowing what I wanted there Probably the waitress, bend her double like a safety pin, Deposit the mad seed before they tie off my tubes . . .
Suddenly a man with wild eyes rushed out from the wooden toilet Foam on his face and waving a razor like a flag, shouting . . . We'll take our vengeance now! . . .
We rang for Luboff on the pay phone, but there was no contact . . .
Get a Lawyer, I said. These swine have gone far enough. Now is the time to lay a writ on them, Cease and Desist . . .
The legal man agreed We had a case and indeed a duty to Right these Wrongs, as it were The Price would be four thousand in front and ten for the nut. I wrote him a check on the Sawtooth National Bank, but he hooted at it While rubbing a special oil on his palms To keep the chancres from itching beyond endurance On this Sabbath. . . . Later, from jail I sent a brace of telegrams to the right people, explaining my position.
Probably good advice if you've got shit for brains..Can we in fact pretend that she is anything other than a woman scorned, like which fury Hell hath no? We cannot.
