A Monologue

I don’t like anyone to watch me when I eat and neither do I like to watch anyone else eat too. No, I think it’s a rather private affair that should be kept to one’s self much like going to the restroom. Yes, the intake and the output of food (energy) is an extremely personal matter that should be kept to one’s self. Why? Well, have you ever watched yourself eat? No. No one thinks to eat in front of a mirror on purpose. Or have you ever watched another person eat? No. No one eats alone and no one gives the time to properly watch their accompaniment eat because they themselves are too busy eating. So I beg you to stop yourself the next time you plan a meal and think to watch your eating habits or to perhaps properly watch another person eat their food, and watch carefully as a scientist in a laboratory. Consider this sociological research.
Or, perhaps, don’t listen to me. Really, I wouldn’t wish this sort of curse on any one else. It’s terrible, I promise you, to fear the sort of disgust and horror I feel when I see others eat. And this is why I do not eat in public or with any other person present anymore. I would not wish my own distasteful eating habits upon any one else. Have you seen me eat? No, you couldn’t possibly have seen me eat. (And believe me, you should be glad that you haven’t)! But I am sure that since you are not yet so convinced about this shameful conviction of mine that I may still delineate what brought me to such a conclusion. But I promise you that by the time you finish reading my conviction (or, perhaps even before you finish!) you will feel the same way.

therapy

You should never go to them
Let them come to you
Just like I do
Just like I do

(over and over and over and over...)

Kathy

Come on, Kathleen
Come get out of your mind with me
Get out of your clothes with me
Get out your skin with me
Oh come, Kathleen

chain'd

Darling, you should know
that you never really glow
after we make love together.

And never will I lie again,
you have me on this ball and chain
even as you smile from the nether.

deadlike

I would so hope that my funeral consists of more than just a few laughing faces, pissed off ex-lovers, loan sharks with greasy fingers, and someone to ask "Well, what was that all about?"

My Log has Something to Tell You

Food is interesting. For instance, why do we need to eat? Why are we never satisfied with just the right amount of food to maintain good health and proper energy? We always seem to want more and more. When eating too much, the proper balance is disturbed and ill health follows. Of course, eating too little food throws the balance off in the opposite direction and there is the ill health coming at us again.

In Furs

...Simultaneously she began to drape her magnificent fur-cloak coquettishly about her, so that the dark shining sable played beautifully around her bust and arms. "Well, how do you feel now, half broken on the wheel?"
Her piercing green eyes rested on me with a peculiar mocking satisfaction. Overcome by desire, I flung myself down before her, and threw my arms about her.

Carmen

"Sir, a man becomes a scoundrel without even meaning to. A pretty girl makes him lose his head. He fights for her, an accident happens, he's forced to live in the mountains, and from a smuggler he becomes a bandit before he knows it."
-Don José Lizzarrabengoa

Sarah

"My lord came home from the wars today and pleasured me with his boots on."
-- Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough

“Lovemaking Marquis”

Baby, baby, you gotta trust me
Baby, baby, you look so lusty
And I’ma I’ma guarantee
That I’m the lovemaking marquis
Woo!

So Cold

There was a crisp hint of winter in the air that morning. Air so cold it was tangible and left a minty taste on the tongue. You could see it in Nancy's breath, puffing out more visibly in the sun's infantile rays. She shut her mouth and kept quiet. Stealth was a virtue.
Then Stacy spoke. "I'm having fun," she said in a quiet undertone that couldn't be muffled by her sheer excitement. Nancy turned her head around and smiled. On returning a forward gaze she dropped the hint of contentment and lowered her eyebrows to her new frown. Bringing Stacy along suddenly seemed regrettable. Nancy was not so excited anymore.
"I've never held a gun before," Stacy remarked, feeling as if Nancy's smile was some indication to keep talking. So Nancy dropped the facade.
"That's great, kid, but try to stay focused here. We have to remain unnoticed."
"Sorry, Nance." Stacy's apology was ineffectual, almost immature, and seemed to stay in that spot as the girls moved on. All that was heard for a while was the crunching of the dead October leaves, which carpeted the ground. And the sound traveled a short distance in this more open part of the woods where the trees distanced themselves from others like an awkward, adolescent dance hall.
Further on it seemed the trees knew how to mingle and the forest became more dense. Nancy spoke again. "Okay, I need for you to make a clucking noise - don't ask." Stacy didn't ask and performed as if out of habit. And there was a clucking noise no man could have distinguished from a real hen. There was a pause, allowing the clucks to travel, and then: "That was good," said Nancy.
Stacy regained a sense of happiness in her pride for having done right for Nancy, but she stood slumped with a curved spine that threw her shoulders past her hips with her arms crossed and rifle arbitrary on her back. She looked much too coy next to the composed Nancy, who stood up straight with shoulders parallel to the ground, allowing her breasts to protrude furthest, by proxy.
In her pride, Stacy began, "I remember back in high school how you were always so cold. So cold all the time."

Hey Anna,

Marry Me?