Untitled(What is real in this life of appearances?)
UncategorizedP has Lebanese blue eyes and an handsome nose.
When a dude cums in my asshole I fart cum, P said.
P pushed and wiggled the 8 inch dildo in my asshole. It felt like I was going to shit. I worried about it.
What’s it like at your dad’s place, I said.
His wife was upset that we had too much stuff, P said.
At least the meals are good, P said.
P had to move into her father’s ranch house in Salem when her gay lover began stealing small items from Fred Meyers and Whole Food.
P hadn’t seen this cunning and deluded side of her lover and it unnerved her.
P works with special needs children and cleans large homes in the NW hills and used to work for a bank. She would never associate herself with someone who thinks they have a right to take things that don’t belong to them, like her ex lover who thinks the world owes
her.
I thought P was brave and naive to have moved her two children and herself in with a lesbian.
P cleaned a mother’s home. The mother left with her young daughter, usually she stays and tells P what to do. P used to cook for the mother but she has been short of money.
P cleans from top to bottom and from the back of the house to the front. I was thinking I should hire her to cook and clean for me once or every other week. I haven’t had a home cooked meal for months.
P said they sent the four year old girl who had been molested by the man the lawyer defended in court to his dinner table the lawyer who was also a really good writer played ocean sounds on his iphone and put a plastic bag over his head thinking his wife and three children would be better off without him
What is real in this life of appearances?
A bellicose elderly lady with her laundry cart in a dressing gown had a smoke
in front of the Plaid Pantry. Her behavioral therapy enabled her to walk to the laundromat and to scream obscenities. She seemed to be more man than woman. I thought about smoking and that I would never smoke having not smoked in over twenty years and that it would be a matter of months that I would have my first smoke in a long time. i had a coke, coffee and two whiskies.
My penis was soft when I ejaculated. It didn’t work because I hadn’t been unemployed for years and I didn’t believe in myself.
I had to feel important. I pitied my self importance. I mocked everything.
My stepfather mocked me. I could feel him mocking me, his mocking smile and self love smile weren’t devoid of love.
The planets didn’t offer a way out. They weren’t an out there.
They were an internal organ that had no function.
P looked like a head of hair.
She was a crazy woman. She thought I was the only one who could understand her.
I thought about the day I would say goodbye to her.
I wasn’t able to think. I had to wait.
The meadow was no less of a meadow because I had insomnia.
It was a game I like to play or a game women liked to play with me: how much humiliation I could take before I cracked
P stood up, drank what was in her glass and took a good long look at me.