"hi, friend!"

walking into the apartment, i thought for a moment that a cult had offed itself in the living room. sprawled figures in the most mild form of rest twitched and groaned... the couch was loaded to capacity... and my antique mirror from Ireland had become an impromptu mission control centre laying on it's back.
stepping between some legs i reached down for it to take a close look. no scratches other than what it already came with. good. and amusingly enough, there was about $80 of magic still sitting on it. not one to waste i took out my wallet to find a card to scrape it up. i left no more than 3 toots in the baggie that was crumped on top of the mirror and deftly scooped up the bulk of it into my empty dime bag. a refill! how convenient.
i looked around as the baggy snapped shut in my fingers. this was pure devastation and destruction all 'round. you know it's bad when no one wakes up as the coke gets stolen. even in my most blank of blackouts i would have roused and gone bonkers. something tells me these kids don't need any more.
down the hall my bedroom door was open and i felt the twitching start. oh no. oh god. oh please no... tell me there weren't dirty-pawed twinkies running through my room. i pulled my gordie howe hockey stick off the wall mount as I got closer to the and used it to thud the door fully open. Brad was passed out length-wise on my bed in what could only be described as a failed effort to put clothing on before he blacked out. he got a shirt on and that was about it. a big part of me wanted to take a picture. a bigger part of me wanted to spear his ass with the hockey stick and haul him off the bed like a strip of bacon. but i loved that stick and i couldn't live with myself knowing it'd always smell tangy. it'd be like fingering someone with a religious relic. might not bother some people but i couldn't live with myself.
but i did want to sleep... and the thought of having to wake up in a couple hours to a full house of rumblings didn't appeal to me much. i wondered if i had enough money to go to a hotel... then remembered that i spent it all partying for 4 days in a row. to be fair, it was work-related so i wasn't being frivolous.
hopping on the bed i realized my options were to push Brad off and potentially give him a concussion hitting the floor or attempting to share the bed with him. Both were sketchy. after a solid two days up raging and partying i was on that silky cusp of being calm or weeping like a lost child.
I grabbed a towel off the floor and tucked it around brad's bare ass before dragging his legs around to gain more real estate on the bed. thank god i have a king sized bed.
turning him around i tried to remember how you prop someone up so they don't choke on puke. i fussed for a few seconds before giving up and settling down onto the mattress.
finally, life emits from within. a groan. brad lifted his head up for a moment and it thudded back down. gone as fast as it arrived.
i propped up the hockey stick beside my bed and began rooting around in my drawer. lube, a different kid of lube, that lube for jerking off, the other lube so you can whack off for a long time... poppers? that's where that bottle went. that buttplug i really like... a vibrator... condoms. probably expired. boys that i lure in here usually bring their own anyway. more lube?? good god, for someone who gets laid once a month this sure is a drawer of hope springs eternal. note to self: don't buy more lube until the current stock is depleted.
pills! surely to god i have something in here. ativan? come on. there has to be some. i had successfully run up 4 separate prescriptions for it so there has to be a bottle kicking around. or my sleeping meds? no where to be seen. ugh. there's the anti depressants i never started taking. that's useless. advil... no too far gone for that. perkasets? huhhhhhhhhhhhh no. not with all the liquor and lack of food in me. i was on the verge of having a screaming fit ripping the drawer out and smashing it against the wall. what kind of horror movie plot would that be? "old fag monster attacks!"
wait. THERE YOU ARE! rascal. smarty pants me stuck the rainbow of sleepy/tweeking out meds into a tiny case. all in one super smart spot. fuck i amaze myself sometimes.
One ativan and pray that the glass of water beside my bed isn't too terribly old.
ahhhhh. there. now i just have to sit here patiently for 30 minutes for it to filter me down into sleep.
i dug my phone out and started clicking through it as Brad rolled over.
"huhwuh? why are you in my bed?"
"sorry, are you playing the part of me in the matinee production of "We're a Fucking Disaster"?"
"what?"
"you're in my room turkey."
"do i have pants on?"
"that would be a negatory. you have a towel tho. forgive me for not checking to see if it's jizz-free."
"what?! I don't feel good... what time is it?"
"11am. I just got in from Vegas a couple of hours ago."
"whu... what? you said you wouldn't be back until Monday!"
"no i go back to work on Monday. I come home Sunday so i can sleep."
"is everyone gone?"
"no i'd say everyone is actually still here. they're all passed out in the living room. you might have broken the record for most people in the apartment."
"how many are out there?"
"18... 20?"
he tried to sit up and failed miserably.
"no... oh god where did they all come from?"
"you don't even KNOW who they are?!" i hauled my leg up and hoofed brad off the bed with a mighty whomp.
he screamed a little as he rolled out of the towel and onto the unforgiving laminate flooring.
"get the FUCK out there and get them OUT of the apartment! if you know them they can stay. and get some fucking panties on. jesus."
"well they're in my room!"
"you want panties?" now i was mad. "i'll give you some fucking panties!" i snatched up the hockey stick and fished a decidedly dirty pair of boxers off the floor and snapped it across the bed.
"put them on and get the god damn twinkies out. daddy is tired and does not NEED THIS!"
he looked understandably disgusted at the option of putting my shorts on but it was better than standing up naked in front of me.
"shut that door behind you. I'm setting my alarm for 6pm so we can talk later."
he was flopping around trying to cover his dick up in boxers that were easily 3 sizes too big for him.
"you always have parties!"
"yeah the difference is you don't wake up to god damn fucking Jonestown after it's over! less talk, more twinky removal. LET'S GO!" i was tempted to crack the stick on the wall to show i mean business, but no, Gordie... I can't do that to Gord.

a paw in my face - the field

i feel so bent and broken talking to you. the bigger Me wants to be stoic and ignore all my faults that you don't like... Want to hush my inner nag screaming at me to kiss your adorable face... want to strangle the voice of reason droning how you'll never care about me in that way. want to listen to you as a friend instead of some hurt child that'll never really understand why it's unlovable.

i'm a map of scratches, slices and rips... i'm kidney damage from thick cocaine strips... i'm sour faced and laced up with stomach cramps in the mornings... i'm sad-faced and tired when no one is looking. i'm sick of tearing my guts apart with cold thoughts.

i guess that means i'm sick of you, in theory. just haven't hit my toxicity yet. i wonder if slow exposure will make me immune to the venom? to the nauseating writing i churn out thinking about you... how i want to make everything shitty in your life better, yet i can't bring any joy into my own life.

another man would have kept me at bay, but i'm still within arms reach.

only that distance is everything between us.

everything between what i want and what you can tolerate.

the space that keeps me upright and dignified when i'm in your sights... the space that keeps me trapped in this stasis of want, longing and all that other sundry bullshit a million writers have described a million different ways. it's my cross to bear that Bukowski beat me to it... he'll always been the ugliest, the drunkest, the most unlovable son of a bitch... i can just admire and curse every time i put something down on paper and see that it's all been done before.

"i'm stuck here with butter-boob & nip-snickey" harvey birdman season 3

"this has been... quite.. the month huh, buddy?"
"hum? hey... i'm in the bathroom first." i indeed had been the first one in but had managed to pass out somewhere in between a mud mask and applying a septic pencil to a slick cut. i blinked one eye at a time and focused on anthony looming above me.
"you ruined the bath mat." he stuck a toothbrush in his mouth and shoved his foot down on my cheek. my head clunked down on the tile with the briefest of bumps. it stirred my tinnitus into a frenzy of ringing. i made a slight noise that was similar to "graarp" and the brush stopped swishing around.
"do NOT get sick."
"you know whaat?"
The brush went back into action. "Wuff? Do I know whuff?"
groaning i lolled my head back on the floor. "Oh..oh wow. i fffffucked up the mat."
"Yeah you sure did." spit. tap water. "Did you need anything or should i give you another hour to sleep it off in here? Kinda hankering for a shower."
i waived my hand around to grab the mat and clutch it to my chest.
"i'll pay for another one..." I sat up blinking as the spins whipped my vision around.
"What time did you come home?" He fished dental floss in and out of his mouth. i could almost hear it squeak. maybe that was just my brain tweaking?
"6... 7? what time is it now?"
"it's noon. you got some sleep in at least."
"Ah... ah... no i was up for a few more hours after that. mmmud mask and... yeah."
"Damn it! Don't tell me you used mine."
"Phhfffftttt... no i used mine."
i had used his.
my nails gripped for a bit of cheek and i noted my chalky fingers. probably swatting at the dried clay as i was passed out. the mat on my lap was gross and i chucked it to the side. no need to cradle some pubic hair magnet dipped in gore. my cheeks were flush and tingled with heat. it would be a god damned miracle if i could get out of here without fainting.
anthony yanked out the extendable mirror and dug at some eyebrow hairs. asking him to get me a glass of water would be out of the question since he'd probably chuck it in my face before putting the empty glass in my hand. it's what i'd do to him so there's no one to blame.
tipping the frame down he looked back at me.
"Do we always have to have this fucking talk every weekend now?"
"OH..."I looked angry but the rage sent blood thumping into my head. sharp and agonizing. i fantasized that this is how it'd feel to get a hatchet in the skull. I mumbled out the side of my mouth. "Oh, no... just a little fun on the weekend."
"Have you noticed you're a little out of control? I believe the expression is death wish."
"Pfft... I've been way more excessive before."
"This is relative to the company you keep. Why not... you know." He rolled his wrist around trying to conduct his thoughts with a tweezer. "Talk about it? Is that what i'm supposed to say now..."
"If you weren't a sociopath?"
"If I wasn't a sociopath. Listen, since when do you fall apart over a man like this?"
I immediately wanted to sleep again and avoid this line of questioning.
If i knew why i felt this way, i probably wouldn't be drinking my face off and indulging in mutilation over expensive facials. Probably wouldn't be crying over e.m. forster and deciding to go out at 10pm and making up for lost time... Probably wouldn't be crumpled up into a wad of devastation over some asshole calling me to cancel plans.
"What if you had passed out dicing yourself up? What then?"
"You'd have a reason to re-do the grout in the tiles if i bled out... and that would be a noble enough reason."
"Replace the mat. We're done."
"I was holding out for you to take a shower actually."
"OUT."
Pulling myself along the floor with my hands and ass i made my retreat with the mat coming with me. one rug? only one casualty isn't too bad when you think about what could have happened.

"you have to maintain *some* level of decency..."

i snapped off a hank of pickled string bean... hugh grant droned in the background with pink, turned up lips and tweed suit. me loving a full head of hair. i thought about grabbing it with my fingers. oh sweet merchant and ivory dvd... i certainly felt it money well spent even though i found it tenuously flawed compared to the book. the bean left an burning imprint on my lip from the spices that had been fermenting in a jar for a year.
"maurice" had often been propped up in front of my face from age 16 onwards. it mattered little that it was the only e.m. forster book i had bothered to read... nor did it strike me as odd that my day dreams were of me as clive incarnate forever leaning against a knee hoping for a pet... a rough hand through the curls... the breathless wait for a cue to make a move.
all this was painfully anchored to the way i pined for a replica of myself but wound up crashing into the lives of gob-struck simpletons. oh i TRIED the whole taoism stuff... the stuck up coward in me fanned my face in disdain one minute but feasted on a sense of having the smart-ass upper hand. always propelled face first into the chest of some lunk... some "good, blundering creature"... someone who kept me near when i fussed in silence wanting more out of the time spent together.
it's always pleasing to have an introspective movie night.

"everything must go"

May was leaning on the couch armrest with her face turned away. ice clapped together in my glass as i tossed the last mouthful back and set it down. no movement or sound. just her face covered up and her good arm wrapping around to keep her eyes hidden. her thumb twitched a little on the arm that was secured in a cast and she took a moment to look down. we were waiting for her father to show up and there wasn't much sense in talking at this point.

bang up job on the cast.

we had waited for a solid 4 hours to see a doctor, a mere 2 to get a bed to sit on and wait and wait and wait... i bristled a little when she got a choice of colour. baby, we never got that option. it was plaster white that would ascend into off yellow in a few weeks... none of this spectrum of the rainbow shit. she didn't even reply and i threw out black. thought it would match with more clothing items. she had sat on the gurney with silent eyes and one dead arm laid still on an elevated table. i looked at her and mouthed, "OK?" She shook her head no. I got up and fished out a bottle of orange juice from my man purse. i wondered if she could hear the distinct metallic pop of the lid opening for the first time...
the doctor came back with a tray of fixin's to construct a cast and muttered about having to kit himself out instead of a nurse "doing her job" and I sighed a little to let him know he wasn't getting much sympathy from me.
"This your girlfriend?"
"No sir, just a friend."
"How'd she break it?"
"Why don't you ask her?"
He looked up and yelled slowly, "HOW DID YOU HURT ARM?"
May leaned into his face and brayed, "BROKE IT ON SOMEONE'S FACE!" It croaked out with numb-sounding vowels but still, pretty obvious she could walk and talk and read lips. She looked off to the side and muttered, "asshole..."
Doctor Douche tensed up and proceeded with casting her broken arm and i kept on making her drink juice and eventually jam half a granola bar into her gullet. who knows how long since she ate.
when he wrapped up the doctor turned to me again to give me the run down on cast maintenance but i swished a finger around to tell him to tell HER. "Look, I'm not the one taking a bath with a garbage bag around it. Tell her what to do."
He looked back into her sour face and opened his mouth, but thought better of it.
"No strenuous exercise. Come back in 6 weeks to get it cut off or see your family doctor."
May nodded and hopped off the table. her arm dropped down and made a hissing noise half way between an "ow" and "shit!" I quickly moved towards her and gently put my hand under the middle section to support it. "Hey, Dr. Doolittle, how much you charging for a sling around here?"
Beyond disgusted he stomped away to squawk at the nurses station. After a few minutes of May refusing to make eye contact with me a nurse trucked in huffing and puffing with a square of material that she handed to me and turned heel out of the room. great, i'll just do this myself. thanks for pissing off the only people keeping sick folk alive in the fucking hospital, doc.
Lifting my hand away from the cast gently i flipped the cloth into a triangle.
"hold up your hair."
she was looking away. she couldn't hear anything... this is bad.
i said "hey" low and loud to get her attention. i'm sure she didn't actually hear me, just the boom radiating out of my fat mouth.
"May, lift your hair up so i can put this on." Her face looked sour holding her arm at an angle and lift her good arm up to pull back her mass of hair. I secured a tight knot and made sure everything was firm and safe. May still wouldn't look at me and just looked over my shoulder. I touched the side of her face to get her to look and she seemed shocked at how tender someone with no outward signs of affection could be. I didn't bother talking, just mouthing. "open up, your mammy's got something for you. I popped a hefty pain killer in her mouth to shoot back with the last bit of juice. Little sigh and I mimed one back with an over-tragic face.
"you gonna make it?"
nodding at me i heard her hand go fishing for car keys.
"Oh no no no, you can't drive home."
Her anger flared up quickly. "I cant leave it here!"
"fuck it. you know what? fuck it. drive the fucking thing home. no, you give ME a fucking ride home and you can drive it right up your ass!" i turned to walk a head of her and i could hear the clip of her heels pick up and an arm sneak into the bend of mine and pull me close. still nothing said and her eyes looked a head.
I waved at the nurses station. "Hasta mañana, ladies." Just a few tense stares. "Don't be mad at me, I'm not the damn doctor!" May turned around with me and watched me have an exchange with the oh-so-helpful cow that tossed us the sling.
"Buddy, it's BUSY tonight."
"Yeah, but why take it out on me and someone who doesn't even talk? If I'm being a prick piece of shit you can throw that to me. But really, her forearm was snapped, doesn't that warrant a sling?"
"Yeah. It's been a long night."
"sorry about that... have you eaten yet?"
Another one chirped, "If you call a half a bag of chips between the four of us dinner."
"ok ok... Give me the number if someone wants to call here directly."
She obliged and I pulled May's arm to get going. She seemed to wobble a little and I thought I better get her home before the pill really picks up steam. her heels clicked and clacked in the quiet halls. the uneasy still that the bowels of a hospital makes at 5am.... the steady din but muzzled compared to when it's bursting at the seams during peak hours. we were long past the drunks after the bar and only a few sad faces of children with peaked fevers sitting in the waiting room.
May and I stood out coming through the security doors from the treatment area... She was covered in a tailored suit jacket and smart purple dress shirt paired up with a skirt and fantastically expensive leather boots. i was in busted up jeans and a work shirt covered up just barely in a borrowed zip up sweater i took from Bear's repair garage. my heavy steel toed boots clomped out of sync with her heels hitting the ground and i felt eyes staring at us, trying to make sure some greasy asshole wasn't kidnapping some poor girl from triage.
i fished out my BlackBerry and turned it on as we approached the sliding doors. I slowed down for a moment to scroll through phone numbers. Jostling her arm I mouthed, "Maurice's or Bientot?"
"Bientot has better delivery."
"You're right... keep walking. I dunno where you parked."
May kept up her steady clip to find her car. Even in blinding pain I had no doubt in my mind she had made a mental note where the car was... and would, in fact, clearly remember it.
I called in a delicious early morning delivery of muffins and some assorted servings of fruit and other quick noshes like cottage cheese and yogurt. I gave the nurses station number to get the details for delivery from their mouths and hung up.
Finally we were in May's car and I didn't want her to be on the road. She didn't give me much of a chance to hesitate and turned the engine on. We wound home through back streets and I remarked how nice things looked in the pale shades of dawn. May didn't notice and I didn't feel like breaking her concentration.
I looked at her from the side... her long hair over her ears. I wonder if she even had her hearing aids in?
Pulling into the driveway May shut off the car once it was in park and looked at me.
"You wanna come in don't you?"
She nodded. I certainly wouldn't want to show up at home with a snapped arm after disappearing for 3 days.
"Should you let your folks know?"
"Binh called them already."
My eyes bugged out. Nothing says class than the man who broke your arm over gambling debts calling your parents to let them know you're alive. That's going the extra mile to show, you care about getting paid, but you also care about the little details of people management. Besides, why not cut to the chase and talk to the people who can cough up the money.
"Yeah. Yeah you should just stay over." She looked slumped over and was probably fading quickly as the endorphin rush died down. No more fuel for the brain synapses to keep firing.
I came around to her door and helped her stand. her weight was heavy on me and i wondered how the freak i'd get those boots off her without a prying stick.
Trundling in the back door as quietly as possible i was confronted with a fan of messages posted on the note board as I came into the kitchen. All revolving around a common them of "where are you?" and "where the fuck is May and why do her parents keep calling?"
She looked glassy-eyed at the post-its, a terrifying reminder that this was all very real and she had a lot to answer to. i hustled her on to chuck her into a bed to rest for a few hours after a few minutes trying to yank the boots off. they smelled something awful and her feet were chewed up from the heat and moisture of being trapped in them for days. nearly fainting i reeled back and went to grab a washcloth and something to dress the screaming pink sores from blisters that had ruptured leaving raw skin patches.
i held my breath as I frantically tried to scrub some water onto them and laid on thick lines of polysporin on everything that looked ripped up and tender with swelling. patting her leg i looked at her sleepy eyes. "you need something to sleep in?" nodding. i chucked her some shorts and a tshirt to crawl into and stared hard at her as she pushed her hair behind her ears. There was a hearing aid, but she definitely couldn't hear much of anything other than tones or a few booming noises that shook her more than being heard.
i left her to sleep on my bed and took my laptop into the spare room along with a phone. I called her father and hurriedly told him that May needed to sleep but I'd bring her directly home. He countered the offer by coming over to take the car back with the help of her sister and promised to come back to get her when she was awake. I couldn't even disagree since he had a spare key at the house. that's what you get for letting yer daddy pay for things I guess.
watching him pull up and chuck Josie out to move the car was well worth the stress of the hospital. i laid low to avoid encouraging him to come in and wondered how long i should let her sleep? i yawned. typical. i'm home and now i can't bring myself to sleep.

boy, you about to loose an arm doing that!

curled up in bed i was half asleep with Ed Wood playing in the background. it was a dreamy wash of silver and white and johnny depp in cashmere. i smiled when i heard his eager voice dash out another brilliant plan. leave it to me to have drag queens lull me to sleep.
the cat was on a love strike to punish anthony and was sleeping beside me. his deep breathing a reminder that he'd always be able to sleep and i'll always be awake thinking about it. Shir turned a little and licked his lips a little. who knows what he was thinking about. no doubt a hybrid of licking his asshole and eating food... or both at the same time.
noah had called me minutes before to detail an enormous sandwhich he was making and i had mmhmmed and hawed through his descriptions and thought how nice it would be to have him shimmy into bed with me, crusts be damned, and hear him natter away in person. instead i have a borrowed cat and depp... damn it i have to fall asleep.
i reached over for my cell phone and checked the call log... a measly 14 minutes and 21 seconds and i was being propelled out of pre-sleep and into fitful thoughts and sighs. i chucked the phone down and groaned into my pillow. Shir was woken up and glared at me with harsh slits of eyes. he bedded back down after staring hard until his eyes slid shut. i fanned my arm out on the sheets beside me. i wish someone was riiiiiiight here... someone i could scratch my fingers down his back. sleep beside some snoring bear of a man instead of a sissy kitty and my ever-growing collection of glasses and gum wrappers on my bedside table. oh the life of the swinging bachelor.

dun dun dunnnnn

this wasn't the best time to be crumpled up into sadness... this was, in fact, the worst timing as i needed to get my game face on for a presentation the next day. instead i was hot-faced from straining out a few tears and body shaking gasps. all physical pieces that leaked out when i tried to hold it all back. my aunt would smack the hell out of me for crying and i would hyperventalate trying to keep it in... it was easier to can the sadness than to explain why i was upset.

a fat path of water rolled down my face and i typed out forced messages that certainly were sincere, but made me scream inside. i winced every time i read a line about how i wasn't the man of the hour and would probably never be.

i pushed out my chair and honked a wet pile into a tissue. everything oozed when i had an ugly crying face on and i felt puffy and over heated. i put my head down and sniffed a little. messages blipped by and i turned my head up to watch them. it was a glazed mess so i felt at ease taking a break from it all...

there has to be something out there that can distract me from all this... right?

this actually happened...er, most of it

i walked up McCaullum at a fast pace. i had a hard look on my face to dissuade homeless people from trying to beg for a cigarette. i flipped down my suspenders and let them bounce off my tight jeans. my fred perry shirt was truly a bargain considering what they were originally trying to sell it for. I could see smoke rising up from the stoop. Pasha was probably already out there chain smoking. He was cooling his ass off on the cement steps with Bucky who panted softly but got worked into a froth when i made eye contact.
"Go get him..."
Buck took off and hopped around like a spazzy rabbit until i would stoop down to crush him in a hug.
"Don't pick him up Nay, he hurt his leg at the dog park today."
"Aw Bucky done gon' hurt hisself? Poor baby!"
"You're retarded with him."
"HE'S A BABY!" My raised voice sent him over the edge whimpering and dancing around trying to decide if he should roll over or try to jump up. The knapsack strap slid off my shoulder and I hunkered down to sit with Pasha. Bucky wiggled between us and looked at me with those big brown eyes that looked so happy even if it was a hot summer evening. Grabbing his snout I smooched the side of his face and lifted up his floppy ear to whisper, "You are a retard... But I love you... Yes you Buuuuucky.... Yes!"
"Oh gross. Just fucking make out with him already."
"calm down... your brain's gone rotten in the heat." I opened up my bag and pulled out a bottle of cheap white wine and a litre bottle of water to try and counteract the booze.
"Screw top I hope?"
"Fuck, it's not like we can't go back into your apartment and get a cork screw."
His fingers flickered for me to pass the bottle over. he snapped the seal open and took a long pull of the wine. he was stripped down to the waist with a towel rolled up beside him. I was over for a drink and to shave his head down to a manageable length. Before I started i settled into the deep cement stairs and leaned back. It was a busy little intersection when it was past 7pm. The static clopping of hooker shoes going back and fourth... Hurried steps of people trying to avoid their stare... and assorted queers, punks and art school drop outs hanging out windows or lounging on front steps to get out of the oppressive heat inside the apartments.
Swigging back some wine i cracked a few knuckles and looked over at Pasha.
"You look tired mate... Want me to do your hair now? Might cool you off a bit. Screw the top back on the booze, i don't want to be sucking back stubble all night."
He fanned out the towel over his shoulders and passed over the clippers. Real nice battery operated set that he had gotten in a pseudo divorce settlement with a hairdresser he had been living with. Snapping my fingers I got him to sit a few steps down in front of me. we both shared a cigarette as I went to work on slowly dragging the clippers over the top of his head. A cutsie straight neighbour walked past and looked a little freaked out at what must have looked like queer skinheads getting ready for a night out... Well, I was dressed like a skinhead but no one was touching my heavy layers of shaggy hair with clippers.
Frisking my hand over the puppy fuzz bristle on his head i told him I was done and reached down for the wine.
"Looks good man."
"Thanks... What do I owe you?"
"Nothing... Cable's out at home and sitting on McCallum is better than any fucking telly show."
A hooker brayed at a counterpart who was traipsing across the road to the fly by night convenience store. "Gemme a plastic bottle if you're gettin' me a drink so we can huff outta it after."
Pasha and I kept looking forward and said in unison, "NICE!" Bucky let out a muffled growl/woof as she walked past... Nothing scary, just a lot of air puffing out his lips as he wiggled closer to me. "Rowrrrff-ff-fff..."
"Good dawg, you tell that old hooker."
Pasha threw a thick hand on his neck and scratched under his collar. Buck was clearly in heaven sandwiched between two men even if he was hot under a thick fur coat.
A hoor spotted us across the road. "Whattre you faggots looking at?!"
We smirked and Pasha rubbed a hand down his nipple and nodded at her. She looked away disgusted and we had a nice laugh. It only gets better as the night goes on.... Pasha leaned over to give me a messy tongue kiss all over my ear to get me going.
"You're a pig."
"It's just the wine. Which is surprisingly good for a screw top."
"How did we go from semi-homeless queer kids to fags with full time jobs?"
"Don't feel bad, we're just as screwed up and horny as we were back then."
"Can't argue with that logic."

imogen hassall is still a pretty catchy blog title... even if i already used it today

Anthony's voice bounced down the hallway. his usually direct tone was soothing and inviting as he led an advanced Pilate's class. i peeked into the doorway with Dan and watched him. Totally in his element... leading a room full of eager students and having them obey his commands. He really should have been a university teacher to instill fear and sadness into any punks who thought they could get an easy ride. i ducked back before he turned around and slammed into a clammy, sweat-soaked tshirt.
"Aw gross! Back up Dan!" I gave him a shove and he looked amused.
"Like you're not covered in sweat already."
"Yeah not yours, fuck."
"His class is starting to catch on. I think he's poaching from my students."
"You do a two hour intensive kick boxing class, i can't see them abandoning kicking ass for repetitive flexing."
He careened his neck around the doorway to look back in. "Maybe he's bribing them?"
"Yes Dan, one free bj for every new sign up. Don't even look at me like it might be true. Get. A. Grip."
"Don't you think it's stupid that he doesn't want us to hang out?"
"Maybe it's because you obsess and keep asking me stupid questions about him?"
"How is this obsessing?"
"I dunno... maybe because you're supposed to be doing personal training with me and so far all we've done is get a juice and stalked Anthony around the gym. God damn it, don't you have a boyfriend... or what? Are you looking for a threesome? Because, buddy, i've been barking up that tree for a long time and it ain't gonna happen."
He leaned up against the wall and looked at me. "Remember when you said that I was in love with a doomed scenario? I really liked that description."
"Not really something you truly want to be experiencing tho, you know?"
"I know. I can't help it if..." In the background we heard the class wrapping up and we bolted down the hall to make it look like we were going to the weight room but got busted half way to the doorway.
"HOLD IT!"
Dan leaned me up against the wall in a last ditch effort to make it look like he was helping me with a stretch. "Ow! That fucking hurts!"
"No no, you gotta go into the stretch and really...feel it..."
"Stop you're going to give him a fucking hernia."
Dan let me know and I shook off the deep stretch with a furious look on my face. "Hey watch the language, this is where I work FULL time Anthony."
Oy got, he was still obsessed with him but had little to no control over the snarky tone that seeped into his voice when talking to him. Issssssueeeees.
"Real good argument Dan as you stalk me around here all the f..." His students started to file out and looked around unsure at what was happening. Anthony straighted up and dropped the argument to storm past us.
"Dan, do you have to transition directly to hostile every time you talk to him? 'Cause if this is the angle you're working, I think you need to reevaluate." oh my god, he's crying. there's 30 people streaming up and down the hall and i'm standing here with Hunky Gym Bunny crying over Closet Case Gym Bunny.god i fucking hate the gym!

meow?

i had convinced Anthony to endure a schvitz with me. he sulked with a towel over his head as i leered at a guy who was getting up and conveniently let his towel fall off.
"Mmhmm... God damn I knew a schvitz would do us good."
"It's a sauna... stop calling it a schmit."
"SCHVITZ. If I wanted a fucking sauna, we'd be at the motherfucking YMCA."
"It's hot, it's steamy, we're in towels, it's a sauna."
"Gentile..."
"Sorry," he flipped the edge of the towel up to make eye contact. "I didn't catch that."
"You heard me."
"This isn't as relaxing when you're talking the whole time."
"It's not relaxing because you keep cock-blocking me every time i try to cruise someone!"
"And that's another thing, I can't believe you took me to a gay sauna!"
"I told you the options for prices... You opted for the cheapest one and here we are! Cleanest sheets this side of the south side."
"No talking. I'm going to steam here with this towel over my face and that's final."

Silently we sat. I adjusted my ass on the wooden slats of the bench and wondered if someone else would come in. reaching for a jar I ground sea salt into my shoulders. The crunching sound mixed in with my pleasured murmurs turned Anthony on a little. Either that or he wanted to make sure I still had my towel on.
"Can I have that when you're done?"
"Oh sure.... Good for the aching joints although I don't know if it'll help you stop being a lame old horse."
"Fucking... give them to me!" His fingers wiggled impatiently for me to pass it over.
"You're my little hijab-wearing buddy aren't you?"
"Salt me, now."
Plunking the jar down into the palm of his hand he worked out a palmful and scoured it into his chest.
I sighed and finally settled down to relax a little. I was wound up tight and i hoped the steam would ground me a little in reality. Nothing but my throbbing thoughts and thick lines of sweat rolling off me. I swear it smelled a little like pine as the thc oozed out of any available pore.
quiet now. see? i can shut up sometimes...
the steam didn't let up and i felt a sense of peace. if i sat still long enough i could fool myself into thinking that i was in a sweat lodge. if only for a minute.... if only there was a little bit of fresh cut cedar to inhale.
"So... Who called last night?"
"Why?"
"It looked like a Seattle area code."
"Looked like or you researched it to find out?"
"The latter."
"Yeah it was a Seattle number."
"You're not talking to Roy are you?"
"No and fuck off you nosey old thing."
"It's just... why would you talk to someone who beat you up?"
"Na-na-na-na no. Roy never beat me. You're thinking of Roger."
"Oh."
"Roy was the one I was going to move in with."
"Oh... I... Oh."
"Asshole."
"I deserve that."
"Ruin my schvitz..."
"I'm sorry! I thought that was the one who beat you up."
"Concern duly noted."
"Well... Shit. Why were you calling Roy anyway?"
"Don't turn this back on me, boy!"
"Seriously! I want to know. You'll tell me anyway."
fuck him for knowing i can't stop blabbering everything to him in the end
"He wanted to make sure I got home ok."
"He knew that you were in Halifax this week?"
"See, it's about Halifax..."
The towel lifted and his beady dark eyes fixed on me leaning to the side and biting my lip. "I didn't go to Halifax last week for business..."
"You... what?!"
"I went to Seattle for Roy's wedding."
No words, just aghast.
"How the hell could you afford the plane ticket?! the hotel room!"
"Air miles."
"Air miles. You don't even have air miles!"
"Ya, but you have them."
"Sorry, WHAT?"
"Remember when you pranked me into thinking that a publishing company wanted to put out my anthology of photographs? And I said I would destroy you and get you back any way I could? Well it's not really MY fucking problem that your password is the FUCKING CAT'S name! Really. I've warned you to change it so it's not so obvious." cue image of anthony's computer desk surrounded by dozens of pictures of Shiraz
"oh... oh.... I had been saving those for so long..."
"Cheer up, a few more years and you'll be right back where you started and hopefully you won't have pissed me off by then."
"Oh... damn it..."
"So Inspector Clouseau, the reason a Seattle area code was on the call display was from my lovely hosts checking to make sure i got home ok. I brought you back a tshirt if that sweetens the situation."
He looked perturbed. But nothing excessive, he knew payback had to happen over the publishing deal fiasco. fuck, i called my AUNTS to tell them...
"If you want to have a fight right now I'm sure someone'd come in and jerk off watching."
"no thanks... I can't believe you used all my points..."
"Believe it. If you'd start showing the goods on a web cam I swear you'd be able to quit your job. We'd have to wax though... you know... everything."
"Shut up. I'll leave you here."
"OH NO! You might have to leave me in a gay bathhouse!"
"BATHHOUSE! That's fucking it... We're out of here."
"sit, sit. Another 20 minutes so we get the full relaxation benefits."
ah, damn, this was a great idea.

dub-music-and-bubble-gum-kind of sunday afternoon....

oh my god, that's it. all this time i've been trying to better myself for nothing. this whole time i haven't realized that i'm just a bad person! i deserve this! why have i been fighting it?
I was trapped at a table looking back at my ex and his new boy. my lip pinched under the pressure from my eye tooth. shit i should just rip a piece off and spew enough blood until they get up and leave. deep breath in and throw my gaze around the restaurant. nothing to save me from this. i'm too agreeable. i'd say it's one of my greatest character flaws.
i was hiding at a sushi bar downtown. now i know i always rant that i have run-ins in sushi joints, but it's always at the same one. i thought i would play it safe and go to the hardcore korean joint down in the ass-end of downtown. so hardcore in fact, i had to research the menu online a head of time to make sure i was ordering the right thing. research aside i had a fierce craving for raw fish and a can of Coke. plus this sushi joint had a wifi connection advertised so i could just hide away in a corner and stuff my face over blog entries. i had jammed a velvety square of white tuna in my mouth when i saw The Ex walking past the window. no. no way.... of all the fucking... he was too autistic to want to try new things... the New Boy pulled on his arm and ignored his ugly pouting face.
I tried to look distracted... the old, i didn't see ya sitting there! routine. The New Boy made me and loudly asked The Ex if he knew that "guy sitting alone over in the corner..."
Of course I have a scratchy head of unwashed hair jammed underneath one of The Ex's old hats. And of course, i have to be in one of his old sweaters... all rolled up in comfort... and also i didn't have anything else that was clean and/or socially acceptable to go outside in.
sipping at some green tea i quickly reached up to wipe at a trail that escaped from the corner of my mouth. lip stitched up after Anthony clocked me in the face with a pint glass in the middle of an animated story. it was crusty looking and further added to my troll-like appearance. you couldn't have even taken the 10 minutes to shave... you look like a homeless fag with a stolen laptop. i looked tired and you could read my eyes as they clearly screamed DON'T FUCKING COME SIT WITH ME... DON'T DO IT... DON'T DO IT...
The Ex waved gingerly and i waved back. The New Boy pushed through the crowded dining room to come over to me. I'm sure i looked suspect in an old police academy cadet sweater with BEAM stitched on the sleeve since it wasn't my last name... What a mind fuck. Him looking at the past... the old boyfriend who was no doubt the root cause of all The Ex's idiotic behaviour. I'm used to being a bad influence... but i could feel a little bit more confident sitting there knowing little boy buffed was a dud in bed. I leaned back and sized him up like an old letch.
"And you... are?"
"James. We've met."
"Right! Well fancy meeting you two here."
The Ex hung back. Smart enough to know i didn't want any company but still wanting to be in arms reach in case the baby tried to get in my face. he did have a penchant for thick and mouthy...
"He REFUSES to try anywhere new. It took me an hour to convince him."
"Well good for you... Using your words to get through to him, that's something I never thought of."
come on slut, leave me be. i don't need to deal with children tonight.
my BlackBerry whirred on the table covered in empty sushi dishes and bits of sashimi i hadn't stuffed in my mouth... a cell, two empty cans of coke and a $4000 laptop that I got at a reduced rate from work. The Ex eyeballed it similarly to how I stared at his current boyfriend.
"Look... I'm trying to, ah, multitask some work here. I should let you two..."
"There's no table for two left... look, they're seating people with other tables that have spare chairs. Let's sit with you."
Before I could whip a cup of hot tea in his crotch he was already seating himself. He stared me down hard. He knew what he was doing and he was going to make me pay dearly for being sloppy seconds after someone like me.
The Ex looked stunned and legitimately sorry as he sat across from me. A waitress came to pick up another sheet of orders for me and I hurriedly added some more on for them to join me.
I didn't have much to say. I finished up a paragraph on my laptop before I snapped it shut. I lovingly combed through my BlackBerry emails silently, even though they were all stupid spam... i didn't want to give that snotty cunt the impression i was going to try and impress him all night because i didn't have the guts to say no when he sat down. rolling through emails i reached out with my left hand to gather up my chopsticks and spear some fish to throw into my mouth. i enjoyed the delicious taste and holstered my BlackBerry to look up.
"Kid, you were the one that wanted to sit here... got anything interesting to talk about?"
"How about what happened to your face?"
"knife fight."
"Oh really?"
"Yeahuh. Knife fight. A pimp tried to rob me after i fucked this guy for money... blahdeeblah... You wouldn't want to know what happens in my daily life as a thief, drug addict and sex maniac."
The Ex leaned back and looked exasperated already. The New Boy just took it in stride and leaned forward. "No, really, what happened?"
"My common-law husband was drunk and in the middle of a fun-filled story about being at the gym and threw his hands back in a dramatic gesture. My face happened to be in the direct path of this gesture and he smacked a pint glass and his fraternity ring right here. Pssashhh! Man, it just blew the fuck up when it hit my face."
The boy sat back and shook his head. "I was just ASKING."
"what?! That's actually what happened!"
"I KNOW you're not married."
"It's not being married jackass, it's common law. We're married by default since we've been living together for so long." The boy looked to his man and got confirmation.
"Oh. You usually spin some line of bullshit when we're talking so you have to forgive me if i seem pessimistic."
I leaned back, letting my shoulders pull and really show off the battered sweater I had claimed from The Ex.
Here comes the food. I picked up some sweet shrimp and sucked it out of the shell.
this is painful....
The New Boy worked on a bit of salmon and put half of it down to address me. "We're going to Europe in the fall. Isn't that exciting?"
"Oh, loads. I'll have to get over there sometime."
"We get to go through work... It's an opportunity to see how different police forces work in the EU."
I love it. i fucking love it.
I spent a year with The Ex propping him up while he wasn't working... begging for a night out... something to reward me for being a therapist and trust fund all in one. do you ever feel like you're grooming your partner for greatness after you? that all your work to help them is only going to benefit the next ass they're pounding? why the fuck would i want The Ex to be open to try new things with me, when he can just hold out and do all that with the New Boy? I don't want to change anyone i'm dating, i'd just like to be eligible to reap the rewards of his new-found maturity instead of getting a news bulletin about it after... Breaking News: Your Ex Is Interesting Now That He's Not With You... And he also has money. More at 11.
The stitches felt dry and i wanted to lick at them. Thanks repetitive anxiety for making me fixate on this sort of stupid shit.....

this didn't really go anywhere

i fussed with a piece of sashimi. my chop sticks poked through the delicious layers of tuna meat but i couldn't bring myself to eat it.
Dan pecked at my hand with his sticks to get my attention.
"Yeah I know I'm poking at it. You don't like tuna anyway."
"People are going to think I broke up with you... sit up... you know, look... happy or more like you're getting dinner for free tonight."
"Right right." I straighted up in my chair and looked over his shoulder.
"You seemed like you were in an ok mood when i came to get you... was it something I said? Too many spider rolls and not enough Sapporo?"
I smiled a little and leaned back. What the fuck is my problem?
"Anything more on that boy?"
"No. Fuck... Dan, I told you, nothing's going to happen. I can't even bring myself to hang out now that he has a boyfriend. I just wait in terror that he's going to bring up some magical moment with me and I'm going to burst into tears. Last time I saw him he was going to make his man dinner and read pablo neruda to each other. I really thought I was going to collapse into his arms... What... why in the hell would i meet someone like this?"
"It's not working right now, maybe in the future..."
I pitched my chopsticks down and rubbed my eyes with my palms. "No Dan, there's not going to be a future... Don't you see the pattern of this conversation? You ask me how it's going, I get upset, you tell me to be hopeful and I tell you that you're existing in a dream world."
He looked hurt...

the storm - doves

i put a stubby cigarette up to my lips and took in a drag. menthol and smooth... refreshing blend as per the package promise i read casually before i checked out the tar content. woof, don't look... these are much worse than the old ones i used to smoke...
Anthony tapped on the window and pointed a finger at me.
"What?! It's not in the goddamned house... leave me alone."
He began fighting with the window lock to pop it open. Struggling for a little bit I tried to coach him a little. "No, turn it left then push it up... UP! No, left then..." Gave up. For someone who had superior problem solving skills than me he wasn't very patient with mechanical applications. I turned back to my smoke and casually flipped through the pages of a DJ magazine i had picked up last time i took the bus into Toronto. Anthony came outside in running gear, no knee brace.
"Hey... you forget that you're old. Go get your brace or else you're going to be calling me from the sidewalk two houses down."
"I didn't bring my cell phone... it's too heavy."
"If you got a new one it wouldn't be a fucking 10 pound dead weight. Shit, that thing is like carting around half a phone book."
"It's not a high priority." He looked pissy and did a half-assed stretch.
"I gotta say, it's good that you're up and moving again at least."
"Don't. Don't start with this..."
"No, I'm not mad. Really." Long, deep drag. I casually twirled around my cigarette pack on the cool cement. Just to let him know it wasn't a few that I had got out of someone. It was the whole fucking pack. Well, what would have been a full pack and the other empty deck was jammed with a baggie of weed and a sweet little paper square of coke.
"Five months. You went five months without smoking and then you buy a pack out of spite?"
"I think they taste better with spite seasoning. Want to try? Come on, you might really like it." Waving it around a little he looked repulsed. "It's not like I'm coming at you with a piece of shit. Try it! Keep you thin and trim."
"Better ways to do that... Like exercise. Just MAYBE?!"
The magazine page made a sharp flipping noise. "Exercise will kill you too apparently."
"Don't... Fuck... F... Forget it. I'm out of here." He turned sharply to make a point and went rigid.
"Tisk, that must have been a sharp pain. Sharp AND stabbing? or just sharp?" He went to run and the left side of his body curved over. "Good one hop-along. Feel the burn!" Two more steps forwar and the curve became more pronounced.
"Anthony... Don't do it. Just come back." He straightened up and tried to look like it didn't feel like burning agony and he stopped at the end of the driveway. I quickly looked back at my magazine as he turned around. Quietly he came back only limping this time over to the stoop to sit beside me.
I worked on swallowing two lung fulls of smoke and blotted out the cigarette. "Kinda feels like a kick in the head to spend SO much time pulling on those gaylord spandex running pants for nothing huh?"
He put his head down to his knees. Prick was much more flexible than I could ever hope to be. I resisted the urge to yank out a strand of grey hair. That would just be overkill. He'd beat himself up mentally without much help from me.
My BlackBerry hummed on the stoop and began to do a little dance moving around. I popped it out of the carrying case and checked the call display. Elbowing Anthony he looked up to see a large screen lit up with "Dan" on it. He went to stand up suddenly to leave in a huff but didn't get far. Oh good... you're not going anywhere so I'm totally answering this!
"moshi moshi? hey... yeah? oh yeah? that sounds cute... hmm... well i did just eat. i guess i could do that. or... no that works for me. half hour? ok. lates."
Anthony still had his head down to his lap.
"Hey, I've never asked you... Can you like, blow yourself?"
"Shut. Up. Yoga is my relaxation exercise not some sicko sexual thing."
"Man, I'd never leave the house. I'm serious. I'd like to think that I wouldn't act like that, but it'd be a few weeks at LEAST. The novelty of being able to do it would be..."
He sighed. "What are you doing with Dan? Please tell me he's not coming over here."
"No, wouldn't dream of it. He'll come pick me up but he won't come in."
"Good."
"He'd probably be a good person to talk to about your injury... you... know... OK so it sounded like a stupid idea the minute I said it out loud."
He wrapped his arms under his thighs to hug himself a bit in his typical mildly autistic way. "Where're you going for dinner?"
"You're not invited."
he turned his head to look at me. "I know I'm not invited... Just wanted to know where you're going that's all."
"Sushi. Where else? You can't actually get up can you?"
"No... It's ah, it's pretty locked up right now. I think I'm on the verge of either a leg cramp or maybe it'll just fall off."
I stood up to line myself up in front of him. I crouched down with my knees and snapped my fingers to get him cognisant of what was going to happen. Deep sigh and he raised up his arms for me to fix my forearms underneath each armpit. "On three, lean GENTLY into me and try to push up into a standing position. One, two, threeeeeaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhh!!!" He groaned and I was surprised how much weight he put on me even though he was clearly trying to do most of the work on his own.
"SHIT! you get physio paid for through work... You go on Monday or I'm going to leave you next time I see that you can't stand up." He looked a little dazed and I shook him a little.
"Don't go to dinner with Dan."
"what?"
"Sorry... I don't know why I said that."
"Seriously? If you don't want me to go I can call right now."
He looked into my face but I couldn't read him. "I'm fine. I'm fine and it's ok... Just don't listen to me."
Hobbling to back porch he went inside. I should have gotten him to take the magazine in... Smokes too. Dan'll kill me if he sees that I bought a pack, even if it was for a good reason.

herculean

i shifted in a cross-legged pose on the floor. my leg would be numb soon but i couldn't bear to stretch loose... that and there wasn't any room. my arms stretched out to pop some air between joints and i yawned a little. as i leaned back i could feel squares of paper spin slowly as my jeans touched them. straightening up i looked around me... a radiating pattern of tiny hand-made paper squares surrounding the tiny space around me and my typewriter. i fished out a small flask of whiskey from my cardigan pocket and took a sip. too bad i didn't have enough sense to bring a pack of gum with me.
my inner dialogue had a conflict... you mean, you care more about a spongy square of gum than the fact that you've surrounded yourself with paper and poetry?
what's wrong with a little creativity?
it's 4am... and you've been doing this since 2 in the afternoon!
that's not crazy. that's just getting the creative juices flowing.
when was the last time you drank water? took a break? stood up? your knees are about to fuse together...
i have everything i need right here, except for the gum. rationed booze, typewriter and lots of little squares to fill up with words...
isn't it distressing to pour yourself into this all in one night?
rising to the occasion?
no, you're going nuts and you compulsively stayed up working on anxious bits of art.
ah, yeah that's one way of looking at it. i never get the house to myself, why can't i stretch out with no cats to fuck about with supplies? no roommate to grump about the clacking keys for hours... the vague smell of carbon paper and sand that the typewriter makes when it's been running too long... why not get it all packed into one night?
looking around if someone walked in, this would look like a whole mess of crazy. i twisted the silver cap off the flask again for a lip-searing gulp. now i feel a little shakey... a little worn out from throwing myself into 4 to 10 lines of poetry hammered out onto squares... wood cut-like images of crows, frogs and hunched over bears... all put on as i was driven by subliminal thoughts of you-know-who... thinking about you-know-what... going stark raving something... something...

brown sugar & fig

"isn't it magic how your fuck up friends get forgiven minute by minute but you don't forget a god damn thing i ever did?!"
"This isn't a god damn thing, you... you..."
"come on, try to say something without swearing... i dare you to!"
he dug his thick finger tips into his face to suppress whatever he was about to spew at me.
"You know how desensitized i am to being in the dog house with you? it's meaningless! it's so fucking arbitrary that there's no point in trying to figure out what i did. i offended you in some horrible way... all this shit that you never let go that i never think was so bad..."
he sat back in the kitchen chair and looked at me with sleepy eyes. "I think we're having it out over something from before..."
"Say again?"
"I think we have latent arguments. we never fight it out when the moment's there... so it just gets delayed until something else sets it up."
"oo, that's a good call... I still stand by my original statement that I, I just can't GIVE a shit anymore when you're mad. I never really feel like I leave your radius of Shit Zone: population me."
He laughed a little and looked down at a humming cell clipped to his belt. "Can I take a rain cheque on having it out with you? you know, duty calls."
"Duty calls a lot these days huh?"
"When duty calls my name I don't have to think about this shit. Stay out of this fight with Lisle, it's our divorce, not everyone elses."
"Just trying to be an impartial third party Greg. I fully understand how it might have looked, but, come on. I'm not the gay one fucking the straight one, you know what I mean?"
He smirked at my true, albeit fucked up observation.
"If her goddamned piece of shit lawyer calls you again, DON'T TALK TO THEM. All I ask." He was flipping through the call display on his cell. I have to admit that he went out of his way to meet me in person and threaten me for talking to his ex wife's lawyer. yeah yeah, i know I'd freak too, but Greg was right. We always seemed pissed off at each other over something else. I guess that's the side effect of having your cousin grow up with you... You know that you're never getting rid of each other, but damn you're sick of their bullshit since you've seen it evolve over 30-some years.
"No talky-talk. Got it. Jesus, that's what I get for answering the phone and not screening."
"Alright, just... just I couldn't take it if you...."
"I"M NOT SIDING WITH HER! Out. You have some crisis unfolding at work you have to attend to." He lifted a finger with a puzzled look of gosh, how did you know there was trouble? GEE i dunno, lassie, how could i have figured that out?
"Psychic. I'm just psychic. Out. Call me if you want to play squash this week."
"Yeah yeah... Sorry I'll talk to you later."
"Send me an email, I'll get my receptionist to reply A-SAP."

"the rain comes through my jacket..."

Another piece of gum snapped and dripped in my mouth. i stuffed the soft squares into my open mouth to suffocate the screaming want for a cigarette. it felt bleak and tasteless rolling around in warm twists as i made more spit to chew on it.
the old phantom tastes came back into my thoughts. dead sensations that pounced on me as a tingling reminder that I was only turning my back to memories, not really leaving it behind.
my eyes pinched at the sides as i fretted. the taste of synthetic watermelon melted away to be replaced with metallic silt. blood in my mouth. not really, just the taste. the taste that was always there, i just did a good job hiding it deep down. no cigarette smoking just meant that I was fucked. the bloody pulp taste popped up and curdled my gut with every mouthful of spit i swallowed. if i fixated on it i would stop swallowing until i couldn't keep it in... if i swallowed it would keep flipping on my senses... the swallowed taste memories sending my stomach into shaking movements of fear and anxiety.... 20 and arched over a toilet after another 6AM shift on the ward. the skin on my knees pushing back as I ground them into the tiles. why did it have to taste like blood? why not the other major scents of shit, hot piss and medical taint of creams and other topical aids? just blood. just the one thing that made me twist and wretch everything that was in my stomach up into the bowl.
back to the now and back to the gum that was reaching cow cud proportions... i shook my head and looked down into my wallet. i definitely have enough to buy a pack of smokes. this isn't worth being in a lower risk category for strokes... i'll take it over receding into my coo coo-pants mind and memories.

typed with my thumbs...

I was home again from another blind date. I had ramped up my efforts to find a boyfriend but it all left me feeling devastated. Every lame date another pounding reminder that I wasn't going to find some nice boy to dupe into loving me. oh right. You're not supposed to make it sound like you're tricking them...
I came in furious with my face burning hot. I had sufficiently worked myself into a froth on the bus ride home... God help the next person that tried to talk to me.
I whipped my jacket across the sun porch and worked on ripping off my tie. I couldn't bear to throw it down in all it's vintage silk beauty so I rolled it up to tuck into my shirt pocket.
Anthony was working at the kitchen table and stayed quiet as I ripped around trying to find a glass.
"No point in asking you how things went is there?"
I gave up looking for my favorite wine glass and grabbed a sqat juice tumbler.being good I measured out less than a half a cup. I can just pour more when anthony goes to bed.
"I. Hate. Gay. Men.HATE THEM SO MUCH." Small sip as my other hand tried to unbutton my shirt.
"Ok, ill take the bait. What the hell happened?"
"Just another fucking tool who's more concerned over if we'd have a great combined income than if we're compatible. That & coffe shop boy orchestrated the whole blind date. What a fucking kick in the dick. I adore his personality so he sets me up with some fucking goof that spent all of dinner fantisizing about how to make more money. I have a hard-on for Noah based on the fact that he has a soul so to speak..."
Sip sip sip. Anthony didn't look too concerned, I think he was more releived that I wasn't trying to get back together with the Ex.
"I want to date someone who knows they're fucked up, but they want to work on it. Not just chucking meds down their throat or comsuming things to fill the void." I looked down at the mostly empty glass with the vapours of wine still wafting up.
"It's no big deal. The sooner I come to grips with operating as single for the rest of my lifen the sooner I can stop torturing myself." I stared forward and had a mix of lost and resigned plastered over my face.
"This is the part where you say fuck it and say you're going to jerkoff and go to bed..."
"Yeah you're right." I slipped out of the kitchen & made my way upstairs. What a horrible waste of time when I might as well stayed home to slink off to bed alone.

"a shimmy and a shake, ah-oh, we're on top..."

hovering on the edge of dozing off and just relaxing i moved backwards into Nick's back. i could have purred as he rolled over to clutch at me like a body pillow. Even with his massive leg humped over my thigh pressing it down i felt safe and deliciously peaceful.
i had promised anthony that I wouldn't make contact with Nick for a good long while to avoid the whole toxic ex boyfriend juju. I hit my breaking point of celibacy and texted him on a night that I had the house to myself for the evening. He came straight over after his shift and had a knapsack slung over his shoulder. I had thrown on a sweater and jeans... coat still in his car as he pushed into the back sun room, god forbid the neighbours see. his mouth tasted cold from working in winter air all night doing a drunk driving roadside check. We never had much to talk about but I was keen to get him dragged upstairs to do what I had suggested via my message earlier this evening.
in the end it was the usual toe-curling adventure but i was surprised to feel him curl around me in a moment of wanting to be close. must have been a bad night... his hand pawed at the side of my hip to pull me in closer and this time i really did purr a little. Oh this is nice... Couldn't you just come over a few times a week to do this? How fucking lonely am i that i had to call up my definitely wrong for me ex boyfriend to skewer me into having some emotions?
He huffed a little and sighed. "Can't. Fucking. Sleep. Every... jesus..." His grip tightened on me and my eyes snapped open. There goes the moment.
I rolled over and moved back a little to look at him. "No sleepy makes for psycho cop, you know that."
"Yeah I know Nate. Just, wound up and shit. This was fun though."
"What's wrong? Your mini-me boyfriend not as much fun?"
"I'll take stable and boring personality types any day to date... the fucking on the other hand is a sad and timid affair. He doesn't mind shit like this since it means I won't pester him for a fuck this week."
"Ah, my mind rests easy if my ass feels worn out."
"I never got your sense of humour..."
"I know Nick."
"How about that blondie fag I saw you with last month at the sushi bar?"
"How about him what?"
"Who is he?"
"Chill out Serpico... Just a guy. You know.... Nothing to worry about." I shot him a disgusted look. "I'm not his type."
Nick looked down and looked at me in the oh-so-trite candle light.
"The ONLY reason I bring it up is... that you looked miserable around him. You're smiling but you had that heavy-eyed look you get when you stop talking. Like now."
My eyes snapped back up to look at him. I was a little more than pissed that he could spot my sad little echo act in a crowded restaurant but he was incapable of making any real semblance of interesting conversation.
"so what? I'm not his type."
"Ya, you SAID that. Makes it sound like you wish you were his type."
"You can't force these sorts of things, Nick."
"what's the appeal? You tend to go for the more, er," I reached behind him to grab a slathering hunk of ass to grip. "Er, a man that's more substantial."
"Hey, a boy can have a spectrum of cock interests, can't he?"
"Don't tell me... he's a fucking literary genius."
"NO Nick, he's not."
"Painter?"
"No!"
"Dancer?!"
Laughing I pinched his butt hard and let go. "ACTOR! He's a fucking actor."
"Haw haw, I just knew he looked cute but unemployable." I wasn't expecting it to wound me so much to have Nick mock my lust for the coffee shop boy, still, after all this time. Nick leaned in to catch my mouth before I could protest and we made out a little bit. it was good to kiss until we left the conversation behind us a little.
Pause and a chance to wiggle in close for some quiet time against a warm body.
"You don't... like boys THAT much."
"Huh?"
"You heard me... You like fucking men but you have little patience for them for the most part. What the hell is up with this one?"
"He's someone who's fucked up but who actually wants to do something about it... not like trying to figure out the universe, just trying to build and get things right the next time... around... look at you, you're staring at me like I have two heads."
"These are words I never really thought could come out of your mouth. Change? A man who makes you want to better yourself? Someone you want to... You fill in the blanks."
Sheepishly... "makes me want to... keep... bettering myself."
"I'm stunned... You? You the one who said you'd rather run yourself through with a butcher knife than get married to a guy? You who resist everything in a relationship that's stable and loving? I... I don't get it. Must be..."
"Must be a special guy. No. No he's not. He's just a guy. He's just a guy I have a crush on and that's all."
He looked stunned at my cold tone. "ho-kay, if you don't want to talk about it shall we get another round in? I figure it's better than trying to communicate."
"Sounds good to me."

3 BlackBerry's in 4 days. please let me keep this one...

i was wrist-deep into a stilton salad when avi paused between mouthfuls of lambchops to ask a pointed question. "So, do you have a new work husband yet?" I had jumped ship for a new job, but i had yet to figure out the actual job let alone find someone like my ex work husband. Scoff... "Hardly. Ya know, this is more the stage where I'm in the interview process for work boyfriends. Too soon, man."
He eyeballed our waitress who was talking to another table. We were imaculate weilding cutlery and could eat with the pickiest... we didn't impress each other, but it made for speedy and cunning consumption of fine meals. Nary a pinkie finger would lift but we had a natural rythm of stuffing our mouths and then pausing to set the fork down to the side. always on an angle down to the table. tip it up into the dish when you're done with it and don't acknowledge this action. oh god how i was ruined being beaten senseless by the lone relatives that had some class. never mind that they smacked the shit out of me to get that well trained.. no mind. back to the stilton salad.
Avi had silently negotiated another litre of wine for the table using only one hand and a polite grin. Our assorted chains to the office beeped or vibrated every couple of minutes, but we don't answer the phone on lunch. Admittedly i would rush out for a smoke as he ate dessert to check my BlackBerry and he frantically cascaded through his call list when i was away from the table. at least we went through polite motions of seeming civilized, or at the base of it, had ground rules for friendly meals.
Ignoring the pulse in my pocket i pushed around some leaves of salad. Avi split out the remaining portion of wine and shook his head. "No I understand the whole interview process. it's not easy finding that work spouse. Sometimes I wonder if i'll find a work wife with this new job. It's slim pickings."
"Not even a work husband?"
"Oh. Oh that's different. I totally have a work husband."
"Well... what the fuck! You don't get both!"
"I don't want to sleep with my work husband."
I strained my eye balls in a for real? open mouthed gasp.
"Nothing above the waist."
"OH how noble. Friction is the ultimate in passion."
"We're not talking about this... I mean, Mort is my work husband. For sure." Mort was the boss in the small PR firm that was looking after some tech firms in town. Only a touch of crag in the face, but i certainly would run away to Portugal for a few weeks with him... Which Avi had last year when they met at the bar. Avi was SUCH a good friend to come to the gay bar with me for moral support. Support that seemed to emerge when he had gone through a dry spell of no sex... no mind. He scored the jackpot and talked Mort into buying him a late night dinner to make him feel better about the blow job in his car. 4 hours of conversation later he had Mort email his travel agent to bring him along to Portugal for a few weeks. Avi quit his job and took off. Thankfully he kept talking for the remainder of the trip and reassured Mort that it wasn't too terribly retarded to let him work from the bottom up in his office.
From there he was a well-kept pet. he held his own in the office slicing throught the front desk operations to make it work instead of annoy people that walked in. Good lad worked hard but kudos to Mort for letting him progress normally, not letting occasional and intermitten requests for a hand job affect his judgement. sure cocksucking got him the job in the first place, but really, everyone has to get SOMETHING in the door initially to show you can get paid for SOMETHING.
"Mort is your office husband... if you get an office wife you're going to get fired."
"Oh I've thought of all this... I know I know... Fortuneately there's no one at work that I'd get all attached to. Just like I don't think you're going to replace your old office husband."
My fork dropped down and I sulked over the last dregs of my wine. "Thanks. I know."
Your office spouse should almost always be married or horribly attached in some way. They're that person at work you'd probably mate with given the chance, but deep down they'd probably piss you off just as much as anyone else you'd find in the dating world. Still! They pass the time in the office as you yak and chat and connect... You probably talk to them more than you'd ever talk to someone you're ACTUALLY dating. I loved my office husband in my previous job. Good looking and interesting? shut the fuck up. That's all behind me... At least this conversation served as a good reminder to actively look for a new gent to fill that void in the office.

over it, in theory

"so much for quitting smoking huh?" Maggied came round the side of the house quietly and caught me outside puffing away at a cigarette.
"Anthony bought them for me."
"For real?!"
"I shit all over his head when we were shopping for new ties and he left me in harry rosen. i thought for sure he had dumped me at the mall, but he stomped back with a pack. funny, he even knew what I like."
Maggie's lighter popped open to flick a small wave of orange fire under her own brand.
"It's beyond me why you hide the fact that you smoke."
"No, more that I pick it up and drop it over and over again. really no point in announcing i've fallen off the wagon. might as well keep it consistently in the dark."
Exhale and a head shake. "Yeah you're right, it's definitely not faulty logic."
"Enough out of you.... sneaking around in the dark while an old man tries to have a moment of peace."
We shifted on an icy patch of snow and smoked quietly for a moment. Still some stars able to poke through in the night sky... faint winking points that never compared to what i was used to.
"Did you get kicked out of Harry Rosen for making a scene?"
"Fortunately no, i have a massive store credit there so they weren't in a rush to boot my ass out."
"What... what'd you say to Anthony?"
"He asked me if he looked good in light green and I said only faggots and italian gino's would like something in that shade and went back to picking through the ties."
"Owch."
"I was testy!"
"that's apparent nate. what a tool. I'd have left you there."
"You're forgetting the bazillion times you reared your pissy face at me."
"I know... that doesn't matter. do as i say, not as i do and all that stuff."
"Stuff eh? Lord. Finish that up and come in."
We hopped into the sun porch which had actually warmed up since i had been burning over 10 pillar candles in it for over an hour. i was burning incense and had been reflecting with a lo-fi record player turning out some destitute ninja tunes record i had since 1996.
"Booooohh my god! that's an old album. i didn't even think they printed it on records."
"I can't recall specifics, but it was most likely something i paid way too much for as a teenager, but in the end i'm enjoying a revival of this sort of stuff lately."
She dropped her coat in a heap and made her way over to the nest of pillows i had arranged. A joint. yes a joint must be had.
I dropped to my knees into the pillow pile and felt happy to see her. normally i was seething and annoyed when someone cut into my autistic alone time.
"You seem healthier. Maybe it's the candle light?"
"A bit. I'm over it... like, moving on and coping and all that fucking stuff."
She lit the joint and worked it over like a fine cigar. a ball of lucid curling smoke and it's my turn. "I..." exhale some more.... "I didn't know what to do with you."
"heh." puff puff ouf! that's strong. "Maggie I don't know what was the deal. I don't like boys THAT much."
"Dude, i know. this is why i was so, you know, fucking worried! Ha! I feel hyper! Oh! oh yeah, there's a lot of coke in this."
"my lips feel numb... i kinda pieced it together."
"You..." she brushed away the black [and now horrifyingly with strands of grey] hair that was falling into my eyes. "You really like that boy."
"No no, say liked. It makes it feel even more real when i hear it."
"No hope huh?"
"There never really was much in the first place. I fell for the good looks and then i stayed for the engrossing personality."
"Can't you find...Ah, judging by the look in your eyes, that's a no."
"The boy can walk the line between obscenely funny and dark through to being a little flake."
"You always were the closeted hippy weren't you?"
"Yeah, but i fucking hate hippies. almost as much as I hate gay guys."
"What a strange and angry world you live in."
"I need to be with a guy who doesn't freak out having to party outside of the gay scene... OH MAGGIE!" I put my hands up to my face. A Herbalizer song thumped out through the old speakers.
"Maggie, he's great but he's not for me. That's it, right? That's all there is to it."
"I guess it's good that you've come to this stage at least..."
"Yeah thank god I did. I still have a hardon for him, but come on, it's not in the cards. He's got a lot of hot actor's to fuck around with, why go for personality when you can just whack the nuts to some hot dude?"
"Gross!"
"Calm down..." I smiled at her and enjoyed the moment of not taking myself so seriously.
"I still want him, don't get me wrong, but I'm comfortable with the situation where i've attached myself to someone who has no attraction to me. it's my problem and it's time to get over it. now if only i could find a little tail to nail..."
"Good rhyme, but all of my little friends are crazy. I wouldn't set you up with them."
"What about a good lay, but crazy?"
"I'd have to think about it... it's still not an easy decision."
"I've got all the fucking time in the world to wait, believe me."