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Hey... Mr. I know you are reading this, and I heard you asked your mother if this was real. And, yes it is. But, could you not tell your mother everything you read here? I just don't think it's such a great idea if your mother asks my mother if I have a story that's gonna be published in Bound and Gagged. I mean, I really don't care that the world knows it, but come on. What do you think it's gonna do to my mom? I know it just makes me seem like a weak son of a bitch, but you know. I am. I like to live in relative calmness, and if she wants to believe that I'd have a marriage like you do someday, then let her believe it. That out of the way, makes me feel kinda weird that someone might actually think that all of this that I write here might be fiction. Because, then I'd be all whoa. Is that good or is that bad? Good, because I write interesting or bad because I'm trying to make my life more than it is? Beats the fuck out of me. But, hey, if you like it like it, it's true.. it's me, and on to another thing.. Have you seen that Grounded for life on FOX? It's after That 70's show on Tuesdays, here in California. It had me cracking up. It's basically, me if I was married, had kids, lived in New York and well, was Irish and uh, had a job where I worked in the subway. Ok, that's a little farfetched. But, the guy is basically this big kid. Like last night, he got his kid suspended from school, because he was telling the nun principle how much more important it was to take his kid to the Ramones final show instead of finishing his homework. Anyway... remember this. DONT TELL YOUR MOM ANYTHING YOU READ HERE, THAT YOU DON'T THINK MY MOM WOULD WANT TO KNOW, and watch Grounded for life if you get the chance. Thanks, see ya'll later.
bows down to the book gods, for letting me finish entering the remaining books that now reside in my computer database, all 500 of them And, again, I just got a shock... I love it when someone who reads these babbles actually gets the courage to say, Hey... I read this every once in a while. How's things going?
ok, so now that I have those extra books added, I think i should be able to play a little spiritwars, and then I'll put these away... and then I'll do something else... see, this is really what I'm like... blah blah blah.
so I made this deal with myself today, I mean I called in sick after all, so I wouldn't play on the computer until I had amassed 500 titles in my inventory. I have 445 in there right now, so it's just a little break. So, I just got this in my email... fantasy outback It's like fantasy football, only your team will be the survivors. yes, I know I'm a total dork for watching this show, but you know what? I actually printed out the application for the first show. Only, I never sent it in, because who'd want to see a fat faggot, who only knew anything about books waste away to nothing. Whoda thunk the gayboy would win? shrugs I just love survivor sucks, they always put a fun spin on the fact that we fools, them included, spend the time conversing about who's gonna win. ok, going back to the slave pile of books.
oh, I just love this portion... sorry, I'll stop posting old stuff, I wrote after this one. A mortal in a black getup with a garish white face, a wannabe vampire, dropped to his knees in front of us and begged to let him live, otherwise he was going to die when the sun rose. I looked to Nikolai, who had been holding onto my shoulder, and laughed. "You wish us to save you from the sun? Oh, but what if you are not worthy enough to live, my child? What if god really is calling you to his final place? Are you not honored to be following in the glorious Nikolai's footsteps?" The young man's eyes looked wild as he hid his face, the fangs he had shoved in his mouth fell out and the makeup began to drip down his cheeks, giving the illusion of one of those candles that drips down a bottle of wine. My eyes blazed into him as the sun rose slowly behind my back. I could feel the blood begin to bubble in my veins and still I watched this mortal and gave him the final answer, Immolation. "Be careful for what you wish"
here, this is just a little of what I was talking about. you like? Blood tears threatened to cascade down my face, as I gazed at his ravaged body; his auburn hair burnt in patches and his skin puckered in spots where the flesh was close to bursting, sending forth pockets of tissue and blood. In the crux of his elbow, my hand left a large red mark and the nails having scratched the surface, allowed some milky fluid to seep from this wound. I lay my head in his lap, my tongue flicking over this juice. At once satiated, I turned to look up into his saintly face, searching for a reason to this madness.
hmmm, I think I write gross really well. I have been sitting here, going through some of my old pieces. Changing names, and editing, and reading. And, damn, I do it well sometimes. bouncing, because I was online during someone's exciting news emailed the editor of bound and gagged, found out that he wasn't sure when the piece would be published, but that he would email me when he'd use it. be back later with something else to say...
song lyric of the morning: release me from this need i have of me look here after 9pm pst, for something more interesting.
oh man... is it just me, or was Eliz, oh excuse me Dame Elizabeth Taylor, the wrong choice to announce the best picture? Well, I noticed that nik(o) is working on the great american fantasy novel... I'm getting jealous, so I need to be in competition with him. It finally gelled in my mind, what I am going to do with the crapload of individual little pages I have floating around my file cabinet. Of course, something a little vampirish, a lot sacrilegious and very interesting for me. I have also, created a new AIM for the name, so expect a web page devoted to it as well. Those of you who have AIM, be on the lookout for a Dioneo Galeote. It's me. I am also discovering that people like bastardgenres, sorry folks it's as hard for me to accept accolades for any web page I create, as it is for me to hear that people like my writing. And, I now know that I must write well if I have something being accepted in a magazine, especially a smutty one. Thing is, I couldn't think of a better magazine for my first story. I've been thinking that the next four years are going to be really hard to live through. The only consolation is the guy who does him on SNL, "The word is Stategery", ok, so if you don't stay up late or live in America, that wont make much sense. But, trust me he's the only good thing about this bush fellow. Well, blah... blah... blah... gotta get a couple new features up at bastardgenres, and gotta write the next installment in 52 weeks.
ok, in my opinion, Lenny Kravitz can do no wrong... The fact that he's singing one of my favorite songs (Mr. Cab Driver) on SNL, is the reason. Sometimes, it's the little things that get me going.
Hmmm... my mind is tapped. So, I don't know how many people out there realize that I am a pervert, a foul-mouthed deviant, who enjoys reading and talking about smut. My job, up until sometime last week was the best place to work. I felt as though I were bathed in the warmth of others like me. Hell, I could make sexual jokes not only with my co-workers, but with my bosses. I knew to steer clear of a few co-workers, but the rest were fair game. But, then this new woman started working there, Michelle, and she's ... ok, my gaydar is just that, gaydar... with her, the lesbo light is glowing a deep beige. She's got that feather hair that only butch lesbians, trying to pass as lipsticks, own. I don't have anything against lesbians, they just don't work well with me. I use to work with one, who would tell me everyday that I should just quit. Because i would probably never amount to anything in the company. So, anyway... I'm sitting in the breakroom, talking to another DM(department manager) about this great movie... and about how fucking great it is. And, this bitch who is just another DM, gives me this holier-than-thou look. Her eyes just narrowing into mine. I swear I thought I was gonna throw up. So, I just apologize, because I was too far away to slap her upside the head. But, instead of letting the bitch really get to me, I just will go to work and do my job. If she talks to me, I'll just answer, but I won't go out of my way to make her like me or anything. I'll still flirt with everyone, make sexual inuendo's with EVERYONE I work with. And to hell with the lesbo bitch DM, who's head is shoved up her ass. Ok, that was a little harsh... but, who the fuck cares. The other fun thing at work is my story hour... I am reading the newest Hardly Boys mystery. You gotta take a look at this book... it's fun and gay and the straight girl I am reading it to, is having a ball with it. ok, so this has got to be the worst babble ever... |