and with that, i fear goes my ability to feel anything else with much intensity and depth, too.

what is 'jealousy', to you?

i guess the only reason i'm still on okcupid is because i enjoy having the option of choosing between emotional and sexual blueballs precipitated by the logistical nightmare of long-distance connections, and the possibly over-romanticizing of the idea of flying to another country to fuck somebody.

responding solely to at least minimally sexual comments/post and in a maximally sexual manner for a DOESN'T A SINE CURVE LOOK LIKE WONKY TITS? will be doing so like a runaway train and making bad metaphors for a while, at least until i get my sea-cucumber marinated.

match search won't let me search for girls ages 14 onwards i swear i just want to be friends with them.

i was woken this morning by the suddenly realization that i might be peeing in my sleep, and when i woke, i found that to be an accurate assessment.

This was after a dream that involved all manners of things, including:

• being in singapore, but also it kinda looked like pittsburgh
• doing fast-and-furious style car tricks in a multi-storey carpark
• partying with pornstars and demons, who were also my friends
• sneaking into an army compound that turned out to be an orphanage run by nuns
• trying to finger a tiny woman(like 1 foot tall) but not succeeding, followed by an attempt to fuck her which of course did not work
• making a quick escape by cunningly running to a bathroom to take a piss
• building a swimming pool with stainless steel formwork
• laying on my stomach trying to fall asleep but failing
• running up and down stairs for no apparent reason

i'm probably both stressed and distressed. i recognized that there are things going on around me that are affecting me, but it doesn't seem any of them should be serious enough to trigger that stress response(almost bedwetting).

a dear ex-okc friend started a facebook challenge to write a short story in the manner that hemingway did. thought i would replicate the challenge here, just for sake of variety.

triangulation, narrow street, collapse of possibilities, measure of all things.

roses are red,

violets are blue,

rhyming is really difficult and kinda inefficient

hey do you want to maybe grab some coffee and talk about stuff and if it all works out perhaps we can buy a house out in the country together.

the innocence is lost,
raped by time and the punishing
gait of winter's frost.

we are forgotten leaves,
floating on fall's fool's dreams, stolen
sullen on winter's eve.

the weaver's web's undone,
worn at unweaned white seams, woven
weathered when loving spun.

we are tired tunes' tongue,
torn by time and the tiring
dance of jaded feet sprung.

the shoes are worn.
the song is sung.

this poem has
bad grammer
elementary language
and poor scansion

no rhyming scheme
form
or structure
a convulated twist of words
a blindly acknowledged
loophole of literature

this poem sucks shit
the poet must be moron
and you too
for actually getting to the end of such a horrible piece of writing that can only be described as an utter disgrace to humanity and human intelligence