It goes like this and it goes well. I listen to music, eat pancakes drenched in butter and syrup because I am/was hungover, and really, there is nothing better in that state. You know this. The blue of the sky looks great, it looks particulary great from the saftey of my house, where I can look out my windows at the snow, at the piegon man and can do this all while listening to old music.
And about that hangover: Last night, I went to dollar beer night and consumed way too much beer. I am only saying way too much because I spent most of today in a stupor, and well, because I tried to get one of my co-workers to make out with me. Nothing new, I know. I talked to a boy James pretty much all night. I maybe made some blunt overtures to him that were sort of ignored. Way too much beer means being ridiculously liberated about my sexual desires and ignoring normal protocols of social interaction. When I have liquor in my system all I want to do is make out and play with cocks, that and dance, and Phoenix does not have dancing, so I was shooting for sex. It didn't happen. However, on my way home, I did buy a chocolate crossaint and beef jerky, which gave me an immense pleasure that was distinctly unique.
Now, I am going to go listen to Susan Sontag, perhaps Christy will be there, and perhaps, the love of my life, Ben, will also be there. Last night, I did talk to Ben about the talk and he said he wanted to go. Maybe he will. Maybe I need to stop having crushes on boys with boyfriends, especially when I am friends with these boyfriends.
I am drinking coffee now and man, oh man, if I could feel like this all the time. This guilt-free, this happy, this horny. The things I could do.
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