Sunday, September 06, 2015

Thought comets

flashing through my brain.


I am really lucky. Mr B makes me laugh, often, every day. Really lucky. Blessed, even.


The current youngmale hipster haircut, on some guys, looks pretty sexy. The "disconnected undercut" is what they call it. (Who thought that name up?)

It combines the two extremes of male hair display. On the sides, you have the really close and sharply cut style which implies discipline and no-nonsense military precision. On top, you get the thick and shiny luxuriance which displays youth, excess and conscious sexual signalling. Both, at one time.

See? How can there not be a God?

Of course, it can get out of hand and look flamboyantly dumb and creepy.


When you're happy, say, in the middle of flagrante delicto or a great meal* having a body is a great thing. When you're engulfed in dark emotions, it just feels like a horrible trap you can't escape.

*I originally typed "or a great male"...Thanks, Dr. Freud.


My damn knee hurts whenever I move it.


September is a great month in SF. Clear cool mornings and warm days.


Gaydom is tediously repetitive and predictable. Especially the constant victim routine. YouTube just suggested a gay short film for me to watch. It's all about the awful things that could have happened during the worst AIDS days. But they didn't. Subjunctive victimhood: condition contrary to fact. But the Sacred Victim routine is ritually repeated. Endlessly. Zzzzz.


I need a new pipe. The mouthpiece on my old one broke and I bought an interim in NY but the hole in the bowl is too high up, so it leaves 1/4 of the tobacco unsmoked.

Leaving the pipe store on 4th, a Black guy almost backed into me. I put up my hands to keep him away and as I kept walking, he made some kind of threatening comment about me pushing him. Potential chimpout, but no follow-through. Years ago after exiting a very crowded bus at rush hour in SF, a Negro youf followed me for three block because he said I stepped on his foot and didn't say I was sorry. These people are crazy.


I miss the eastern Sierras.


Looking forward to Mr B's birthday later this week. I hope he likes my present.


1 comment:

-A said...

Niggers are crazy. Time to exile them all back where they belong.

Knowing our damned luck, the two muscle men with the nice hair would sound like Ross Matthews and the faggot below* them would sound like Peter Steele.

*I almost said blow them instead of below them. Freud has long arms in the afterlife.


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