must... start... writing... again...

i was at rest for a moment. taking the time to love myself up in sandalwood oil bathwash and ativan the edges had all been rounded off. one plump circle , sir, and how.

today was a troubling mess.. falling off the wagon trying to cut back on smoking hadn't gone to plan. over deficit by one cigarette when i had promised myself 3. it wasn't based on any health benefits, simply i was loathe to fork out the money for another pack for at least a couple more days.

my secondary strike against good intentions flared up on the bus ride home from work. the normal late bus was stacked to the tits with chattering voices. eerily they all had identical knapsacks... stranger still was the high incident ratio of attractively dangerous jailbait tidbits.

i sifted through legs half out in the aisle and wedged between two blue bags poking at cell phones. hoisting up my own conspicuously mis-coloured bag i hugged it close and said a silent prayer. "they can't be terribly legal... think about something unsexy like smashing your cock with a hammer..." oh that's horrible. good. that'll do. now to adjust the ipod...

Skinny fingers pawed at my antique of an ipod. i turned to my bench mate who was wound up and pointing at the display screen. warm fingers cranked out a headphone and said a hearty hey hey and "i love-ah to my boy!"

horrified i thought about licking his fingers. wait. no. jail. jail. and really fucking creepy... let's not forget that shall we?

"oh.. heh, yeah they're great." i swallowed and ground my bag closer to my abdomen. it was very wrong but wholly lecherous to argue with myself for another 10 minutes until i pulled the stop cord and hopped off early.

i think i'm too anxious these days to even appreciate nibbling on a twinky, even if it's only to talk about music.

before my shower i looked up the college written on everyones matching knapsacks. some of them would have been over 18... so i've got that at least.

fourfour mix

"you're awfully quiet tonight..."
Madeline signed the word, "sorry"
"no no, don't be sorry... just, ya know?" I sloppily signed "dad worries"
she swiveled her butt on the couch to prop up her legs on my lap and bob her shoes up and down in unison.

supposedly this was my fault for giving her a non-sexual foot massage a month ago. i was bored with my desk job and had started taking esthetician courses after work. shaving down dead skin and succinctly ripping out hang nails had been my own personal fetish so why not lavish it on other people? it also meant i had a reason to stock packs of razor blades in the house without criticism. there was no actual desire to file down rich sluts feet all day, i just liked working on friends feets.
ANYWAY.
I had spent the better part of 3 hours trying to get Madeline to take her shoes off before my final exam for my course to try and get some practice in to no avail. Her breathy voice whispered "no!" It sounded more like "nooah!"
"don't be a bitch, take your shoes off! i'm not going to suck your fucking toes!"
fingers pinching down on thumbs to make two little holes... thrust of the hands out to my face. No.
i jiggled around in my pocket to pull out my cigarette tin. a blunt materialized from within. delicious strawberry and champagne flavoured from the corner store. [side note: my "usual" was Ad Busters, a pack of menthol cigarettes that the owner would choose at random and a blunt wrap. the magazine was to read, the cigarettes were our little ritual where i said "suprise me]" and he did... and the blunt wrap, well, they always came in handy.]
little puff of air skimmed into her mouth as she inhaled the sickly sweet scent of the wrap.
"see this? You can have it if you let me work on your feet."
her eyes honed in on the blunt.
pulling it up to my face so she'd have to watch my lips i wiggled it around a bit. "It's not a sexual thing! it's calming... If i get a boner you can kick my ass."
She let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine!" Motivation comes in all forms.

But I set myself up for a dangerous precedence. she knew i would sit with feet on my lap and work them over the minute they were thrust into my face. worse still she knew i'd look after them no matter what shape they were in.
clippers in hand i trimmed up the nails before the rhythm of the file started up. Madeline was contemplating the plumes of smoke lolling out of her lips and mindlessly hummed. it's hard to read lips that are bent over to study the arc of tiny nails so we skipped the chitty chatty. mindless indulgence to take her mind off things for a minute or so....