Tell them anyway / and you can make it up / as yooooouuu GOOOOOO!!!!! / I'm already gone now / You were outside just waiting
I just woke up. I'm sober again.
9 pm
We're in the middle of a spring chill. The heat just came on, setting the row of radiators in my apartment to clank and thump. Pouring rain all day, horizontal when it got windy.
After a happy hour for work at which I consumed two beers quickly, I came home, had another, and fell asleep while watching Midnight Cowboy.
I've been suffering from an annoying spring cold this week. As a result, I've been taking Lemsip before going to bed, which is this amazing powder you mix up in hot water to create a lovely and relaxing hot drink that makes you feel better when you are sick and immediately knocks you out. I smuggle these back from Britain whenever I go. The drink contains paracetemol which is a wonderful drug. Tastes so much better when you know it's come across the Atlantic.
The curious affect of the drink on me is like that of a fairy tale as I sleep...allegorical dreams flood my brainpan.
One dream stayed with me strongly all week long. I had this dream on Wednesday morning, just before waking.
First, some background. About two years ago I dated a boy, we'll call him The Coop Critic because that's the name Marcus Aurelius and I know him by. The Coop Critic was beautiful and smart and dashing but young. I fell in love with him and we dated for about a year and a half, and it was filled with mostly disappointments but in many ways was the most successful relationship of my life. I was finally with someone who I considered my equal. But he was kind of a jerk...no real surprises there...he was only 21, 22 when we dated. You can't ask much of people at that age. He had this hipster swagger and was fun at parties but lousy at emotions.
Anyway, I'm still a bit bitter. Usually you cut this person out of your life or they move to NYC to play dress-up and you never see them again and so do not notice that you are actually bitter. But with the Coop Critic (that's coop as in cooperative, by the way, because he is a green grocer at a local coop grocery store) I see him around and we try to be nice to each other but really I'm a bit bitter. I dream of cutting him down in public, of humiliating him, of hurting him.
About a year and a half ago he began dating this other guy, we'll call him Rush. We'll call him Rush because like Rush Limbaugh, our Rush is addicted to prescription medication. Rush is like me...same age, same body type. We look alike. But Rush is socially inept, pathological, insane, addicted to pills, often employed, and generally detested by polite society. Rightly so. The joke within our circles is that the Coop Critic definetely traded down. Their words, not mine.
So that's the background. And here's the dream...I am alone in a two-story farmhouse. It is a summer night, hot, breezy. You would say the atmosphere is pregnant. Charged with sexuality. Heat lightning. I am looking at myself in mirrors scattered around the rooms and just kind of wandering around. An erection presses against the front of my pants. There is nothing to do but wait for the storm to arrive.
There is a knock on the door.
I open the door and Rush is standing there.
Rush is wearing a white hoodie that is baggy. I can barely see his face, but the attractive features of his face emerge from the shadows of the hoodie.
At first I was shocked and annoyed and a little scared...for Rush can be a scary guy. I know he hates me. No one ever quite knows what he's going to do next. He has a habit of starting at you morbidly from across the room at a party. But here he is at my door.
He looks at me and tells me he's horny. I am looking down at him and he's wearing trackie pants like he's a fucking chav or something. He says he's been horny for me and he really wants to do it with me. He'll do anything I want as long as I don't tell the Coop Critic.
It flashes in my mind.
I don't really want to have sex with this monster.
But I want to hurt Brian.
The collusion of the two causes my erection to pulse.
Revenge is such a turn-on.
I bring him into my house and we make out. I feel his hardbody against mine. I kiss the hard line of his jaw and the stubble.
He pushes his erection against mind through our clothes and moans.
I am not going to be fucking him, but I am going to be fucking over the Coop Critic.
I woke up on the verge of coming, light streaming in the windows, time to hobble to work. I would love to fuck you Rush to hurt him...
Is my sociopathology so unique? Oh you guys are reading this and thinking what a horrible man I am but I know deep down such dreams are universal.
9 pm
We're in the middle of a spring chill. The heat just came on, setting the row of radiators in my apartment to clank and thump. Pouring rain all day, horizontal when it got windy.
After a happy hour for work at which I consumed two beers quickly, I came home, had another, and fell asleep while watching Midnight Cowboy.
I've been suffering from an annoying spring cold this week. As a result, I've been taking Lemsip before going to bed, which is this amazing powder you mix up in hot water to create a lovely and relaxing hot drink that makes you feel better when you are sick and immediately knocks you out. I smuggle these back from Britain whenever I go. The drink contains paracetemol which is a wonderful drug. Tastes so much better when you know it's come across the Atlantic.
The curious affect of the drink on me is like that of a fairy tale as I sleep...allegorical dreams flood my brainpan.
One dream stayed with me strongly all week long. I had this dream on Wednesday morning, just before waking.
First, some background. About two years ago I dated a boy, we'll call him The Coop Critic because that's the name Marcus Aurelius and I know him by. The Coop Critic was beautiful and smart and dashing but young. I fell in love with him and we dated for about a year and a half, and it was filled with mostly disappointments but in many ways was the most successful relationship of my life. I was finally with someone who I considered my equal. But he was kind of a jerk...no real surprises there...he was only 21, 22 when we dated. You can't ask much of people at that age. He had this hipster swagger and was fun at parties but lousy at emotions.
Anyway, I'm still a bit bitter. Usually you cut this person out of your life or they move to NYC to play dress-up and you never see them again and so do not notice that you are actually bitter. But with the Coop Critic (that's coop as in cooperative, by the way, because he is a green grocer at a local coop grocery store) I see him around and we try to be nice to each other but really I'm a bit bitter. I dream of cutting him down in public, of humiliating him, of hurting him.
About a year and a half ago he began dating this other guy, we'll call him Rush. We'll call him Rush because like Rush Limbaugh, our Rush is addicted to prescription medication. Rush is like me...same age, same body type. We look alike. But Rush is socially inept, pathological, insane, addicted to pills, often employed, and generally detested by polite society. Rightly so. The joke within our circles is that the Coop Critic definetely traded down. Their words, not mine.
So that's the background. And here's the dream...I am alone in a two-story farmhouse. It is a summer night, hot, breezy. You would say the atmosphere is pregnant. Charged with sexuality. Heat lightning. I am looking at myself in mirrors scattered around the rooms and just kind of wandering around. An erection presses against the front of my pants. There is nothing to do but wait for the storm to arrive.
There is a knock on the door.
I open the door and Rush is standing there.
Rush is wearing a white hoodie that is baggy. I can barely see his face, but the attractive features of his face emerge from the shadows of the hoodie.
At first I was shocked and annoyed and a little scared...for Rush can be a scary guy. I know he hates me. No one ever quite knows what he's going to do next. He has a habit of starting at you morbidly from across the room at a party. But here he is at my door.
He looks at me and tells me he's horny. I am looking down at him and he's wearing trackie pants like he's a fucking chav or something. He says he's been horny for me and he really wants to do it with me. He'll do anything I want as long as I don't tell the Coop Critic.
It flashes in my mind.
I don't really want to have sex with this monster.
But I want to hurt Brian.
The collusion of the two causes my erection to pulse.
Revenge is such a turn-on.
I bring him into my house and we make out. I feel his hardbody against mine. I kiss the hard line of his jaw and the stubble.
He pushes his erection against mind through our clothes and moans.
I am not going to be fucking him, but I am going to be fucking over the Coop Critic.
I woke up on the verge of coming, light streaming in the windows, time to hobble to work. I would love to fuck you Rush to hurt him...
Is my sociopathology so unique? Oh you guys are reading this and thinking what a horrible man I am but I know deep down such dreams are universal.
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