I keep getting all this weird and rather unfamiliar feedback about my 'new' lifestyle from friends I haven't seen in awhile.
Asides the fact that everyone continues to tell me to get a job and ask consistently about my tattoos over and over...the other thing that gets brought up is how fun and outgoing I am. Not very many people can keep up with me when I'm out on the town, after a day on the beach most are too tired to do anything else, and even just going to the lake wears people out after a swim across.
Seriously, I'm not in that great of shape. Do I have higher standards of exercise and what consists of a busy day than others, or just the people I hang around with?
This wasn't worth writing about at all, but I felt the need to type something to put my mind at ease.
Midterms tomorrow. Haven't studied an ounce and not worried a bit about it.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Just the thought of...
Just thinking of her provokes so many emotions.
Just the simple thought of a tilt of her head, her hair falling down to her sides and her eyes on me makes me squirm. Her slow but beautiful smile growing as she rubs her hands across my chest, her gentle laughter as she sees how nervous I get everytime she touches me. And then the thought of desire, how enticing every curve of her body is and the knowledge that she feels the same of me. The thought of skin on skin, our bodies melting together with slick sweat and grasping hands as they desperately feel their way across each other. And then the truth pops, I'm alone at home and so is she. But I know she still thinks of me in the same way.
And then as I get up to shower, the thoughts turn and twist like a wounded boxer throwing his desperate punches into thin air. I think of other men violating her, touching her where I had once laid claim to myself. I feel my gorge rise, a bitter and guttural snarl building in my throat and escaping through my limbs with barely checked aggression. I shake my arms out and crank my neck around, feeling my muscles awaken, blood flowing through my veins and heart rate spike. I think of other men saying words and phrases I know could never be as true as what we once had and I turn the dial to maximum, feeling the hot water race across my body.
I grit my teeth in the shower, feeling my neck muscles bunch and tighten as my open and close my jaw in a controlled fury. As I think of every other man that's touched her, no matter how insignificant, I look down on my own body and evaluate. I imagine breaking his nose, picking him up by the waist and slamming him down on the pavement, ducking a punch and hammering my fists into his ribs over and over.
And then I think of the loss.
I imagine losing and the humiliation it would bring and I start to sober up, like a drunk being brought back to consciousness with IV's. The world around me loses its colour, and everything slowly begins to fade back to greys and whites. I imagine her yelling at me, telling me how fucking stupid I am for even thinking that me hurting someone she now cares about could make any shred of difference. I imagine lying on my back, physically and emotionally drained with bruises and blood scattered across my defeated body as she walks away.
I dry myself with a towel, my features relaxed and my world quiet. As I reach for my socks I hear her laughter as another man tickles her ribcage and moves his fingers up to her armpit and continues his torment. I imagine her hysterical and high pitched squeals as she tries to heave away, but he is too big and too strong and manhandles her back down to continue tickling and making her laugh. As my boxers slide on I see her pushing her hands and fingers to his chest, gliding down to his stomach and pelvis; I see her bite her lip and breath quicken as she thinks of what she wants to do.
I come out refreshed but trapped in my past. I think of her alone, I look around my own house and see nothing but distractions and idle time wasters. I think of what I've lost and begin to feel a familiar nothingness creep into my heart and head, already welcoming the blackness of incoherent and idle thought. I open my textbooks and she disappears, replaced with roaring muskets and economic figures.
She's gone until I talk to her again, but it always starts and ends the same.
Just the simple thought of a tilt of her head, her hair falling down to her sides and her eyes on me makes me squirm. Her slow but beautiful smile growing as she rubs her hands across my chest, her gentle laughter as she sees how nervous I get everytime she touches me. And then the thought of desire, how enticing every curve of her body is and the knowledge that she feels the same of me. The thought of skin on skin, our bodies melting together with slick sweat and grasping hands as they desperately feel their way across each other. And then the truth pops, I'm alone at home and so is she. But I know she still thinks of me in the same way.
And then as I get up to shower, the thoughts turn and twist like a wounded boxer throwing his desperate punches into thin air. I think of other men violating her, touching her where I had once laid claim to myself. I feel my gorge rise, a bitter and guttural snarl building in my throat and escaping through my limbs with barely checked aggression. I shake my arms out and crank my neck around, feeling my muscles awaken, blood flowing through my veins and heart rate spike. I think of other men saying words and phrases I know could never be as true as what we once had and I turn the dial to maximum, feeling the hot water race across my body.
I grit my teeth in the shower, feeling my neck muscles bunch and tighten as my open and close my jaw in a controlled fury. As I think of every other man that's touched her, no matter how insignificant, I look down on my own body and evaluate. I imagine breaking his nose, picking him up by the waist and slamming him down on the pavement, ducking a punch and hammering my fists into his ribs over and over.
And then I think of the loss.
I imagine losing and the humiliation it would bring and I start to sober up, like a drunk being brought back to consciousness with IV's. The world around me loses its colour, and everything slowly begins to fade back to greys and whites. I imagine her yelling at me, telling me how fucking stupid I am for even thinking that me hurting someone she now cares about could make any shred of difference. I imagine lying on my back, physically and emotionally drained with bruises and blood scattered across my defeated body as she walks away.
I dry myself with a towel, my features relaxed and my world quiet. As I reach for my socks I hear her laughter as another man tickles her ribcage and moves his fingers up to her armpit and continues his torment. I imagine her hysterical and high pitched squeals as she tries to heave away, but he is too big and too strong and manhandles her back down to continue tickling and making her laugh. As my boxers slide on I see her pushing her hands and fingers to his chest, gliding down to his stomach and pelvis; I see her bite her lip and breath quicken as she thinks of what she wants to do.
I come out refreshed but trapped in my past. I think of her alone, I look around my own house and see nothing but distractions and idle time wasters. I think of what I've lost and begin to feel a familiar nothingness creep into my heart and head, already welcoming the blackness of incoherent and idle thought. I open my textbooks and she disappears, replaced with roaring muskets and economic figures.
She's gone until I talk to her again, but it always starts and ends the same.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Fall
I want the wind on my face, a warm jacket wrapped around my body and neck with the Autumn leaves crunching beneath my feet.
I want the world around me to die and wither and have the ability to just wade through it all, kicking amber fireworks into the air.
I want the world around me to die and wither and have the ability to just wade through it all, kicking amber fireworks into the air.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Feelings of Old
I'm beginning to feel my heart tug at me again for the first time in a very long time.
It was after I had been driving for something like six hours, I was on the drive home from a fucking amazing but sunburnt filled camping trip a few days ago when I realized how empty the house would be when I got home.
And all of a sudden, school and going back to the city and surrounded by women again seemed daunting and unappealing. I wished I could have stayed out where there is no such thing as laptops or cell phone reception, or even the people that I want to see but know won't call won't be around for me to dream about.
I wished for a warm house and a warm smile, a knowing look on her face as my craggy and unshaven features enter the room with weary but lustful eyes. I wished for someone that wanted my company and wanted to ask me what I thought of every little thing, someone to run her fingers over my shoulders as I got into bed.
I'm over it mostly. I can still hear old pillow talk conversations in my bed before I sleep sometimes, and I'm beginning to have trouble sleeping again. Time away from the gym and more time spent grinding out theories, hypothesise and the start of what seems like an endless torrent of history papers doesn't wear me out. I'm just too poor to afford going to a decent gym anymore. My budget for food has plummeted, and I'm a little worried on where I'm going to get next months rent from.
I wish the summer was over and I could say I had the time of my life. I wish it was October and the rains were coming, along with the wind and clouds.
But it's still summer and who knows how it might turn out. Chamberlain Waits by the Menzingers has fueled my last two weeks, infiltrating every thought and every spare moment. What an amazing album.
Please, seat yourself; usher of times won't recognize you.
It was after I had been driving for something like six hours, I was on the drive home from a fucking amazing but sunburnt filled camping trip a few days ago when I realized how empty the house would be when I got home.
And all of a sudden, school and going back to the city and surrounded by women again seemed daunting and unappealing. I wished I could have stayed out where there is no such thing as laptops or cell phone reception, or even the people that I want to see but know won't call won't be around for me to dream about.
I wished for a warm house and a warm smile, a knowing look on her face as my craggy and unshaven features enter the room with weary but lustful eyes. I wished for someone that wanted my company and wanted to ask me what I thought of every little thing, someone to run her fingers over my shoulders as I got into bed.
I'm over it mostly. I can still hear old pillow talk conversations in my bed before I sleep sometimes, and I'm beginning to have trouble sleeping again. Time away from the gym and more time spent grinding out theories, hypothesise and the start of what seems like an endless torrent of history papers doesn't wear me out. I'm just too poor to afford going to a decent gym anymore. My budget for food has plummeted, and I'm a little worried on where I'm going to get next months rent from.
I wish the summer was over and I could say I had the time of my life. I wish it was October and the rains were coming, along with the wind and clouds.
But it's still summer and who knows how it might turn out. Chamberlain Waits by the Menzingers has fueled my last two weeks, infiltrating every thought and every spare moment. What an amazing album.
Please, seat yourself; usher of times won't recognize you.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Interwebz
The Internet really weirds me out sometimes, even though I've been raised with it.
Pre Internet, how could you follow along with what your favorite author was doing and how books were coming along in the UK? How could you hear what your favorite band's lead singer was thinking about (felching, beer, kids, etc.) when he wasn't rockin' the fuckin' joint year round? How would you know how many guys your ex has chewed through in the last 6 months?
Now I follow all of it. Every time any one of them has something to say, think about, or even just off handedly mention, I get it. I may be on the West Coast of Canada and they might be in 'burbs of Chicago or even across the Atlantic, but within seconds of them saying anything I have immediate access to whatever they want me to see.
How fucking weird is that! I don't care if I've grown around it and spent hungover Friday nights doing dishes and watching stupid shit on Youtube, it still gets to me a little and makes me do a double take. I can even follow my favorite pornstars and jerk off to their every new move and curve on Pornhub. Weird. Totally weird.
In other news, I continue to keep getting too drunk on holidays. I'm officially too rowdy for most people after a little gin. I've grown to "double" the size I was in grade ten and am apparently close to becoming one of those assholes who flaunts his rock-hard chiseled body to the bitches too often. I'm also a roaring mass of testosterone and people have been commenting on my energy levels, which I've always considered lower than most.
Who knew.
"Blame the suits, who line their pockets with her tears. Blame the boys in the blindfolds covering their ears."
Pre Internet, how could you follow along with what your favorite author was doing and how books were coming along in the UK? How could you hear what your favorite band's lead singer was thinking about (felching, beer, kids, etc.) when he wasn't rockin' the fuckin' joint year round? How would you know how many guys your ex has chewed through in the last 6 months?
Now I follow all of it. Every time any one of them has something to say, think about, or even just off handedly mention, I get it. I may be on the West Coast of Canada and they might be in 'burbs of Chicago or even across the Atlantic, but within seconds of them saying anything I have immediate access to whatever they want me to see.
How fucking weird is that! I don't care if I've grown around it and spent hungover Friday nights doing dishes and watching stupid shit on Youtube, it still gets to me a little and makes me do a double take. I can even follow my favorite pornstars and jerk off to their every new move and curve on Pornhub. Weird. Totally weird.
In other news, I continue to keep getting too drunk on holidays. I'm officially too rowdy for most people after a little gin. I've grown to "double" the size I was in grade ten and am apparently close to becoming one of those assholes who flaunts his rock-hard chiseled body to the bitches too often. I'm also a roaring mass of testosterone and people have been commenting on my energy levels, which I've always considered lower than most.
Who knew.
"Blame the suits, who line their pockets with her tears. Blame the boys in the blindfolds covering their ears."
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