July 9, 2004

I want all that stupid old shit like letters and sodas.

It's a good thing that today wouldn't be an anniversary or anything, otherwise I would be a complete and utter wreck and unable to come up with a decent blog post.

Or lack thereof.

I don't know if it's so much that I need to get laid as it is I need to fall asleep in the arms of someone I just laid (or laid me, it's all good).

I swear to god, if they took the essence of snuggling and put into drug form, I would so have a needle in each arm, a few lines on the desk, two tabs on my tongue and one in my eye, and a cigarette in each hand.

I'm pretty sure overnight I'm going to grow extra appendages and turn into an octopus. Eight arms to hold you. That's right. You're dead meat.

If you are a cute boy in the tri-county area, I would watch your back so I don't run up behind you and attach myself with a giant slurp and hold on for dear life. I will stick on you like cavities on a tooth, cancerous cells on healthy tissue, peanut butter to the roof of your mouth, like snot on a tissue. I will cling like a syncophantic kid brother, like static electricity on carpeting; like designer Tupperware I will hold you tight until no air can escape. I will trap you like a Venus Flytrap, and you will just be stuck in my grasp for the rest of your life.

I won't spoon you; I will fork you with limbs jutting out everywhere and I will fork you all night I will fork you until you cannot take it anymore. I will fall asleep holding on to you like a three year old does a teddy bear when the night-light burns out, I will wake up when you have to get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom (I will divert my eyes, however, since I'm not into that sort of thing) and I will accidentally put my antiperspirant in your pits because I will no longer be able to tell the difference from where I end and you begin. You will have to have me surgically removed with lasers should you ever want to live a normal life.

Consider yourselves warned.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.