Tuesday, August 31, 2004

I just went to La Bonita and bought a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. I did this after pouring myself a bowl of ceral and tasting that the milk was in that beginning stages of turning sour, where you could still eat it if you did not really think about the taste too much. Normally, this is what I do do, too broke to buy milk if I still have some that is not yet totally bad. But this morning was different. I decided I was going to not only get new milk, but was going to get something else to eat for breakfast besides cereal, the aforementioned sandwich. And the reason that today was different is because last night I was either Satan or lucky, depending on which system of ethics you subscribe to.

I was outside the Cock, waiting for Rebecca down the block, and I saw an object on the bench at the bus stop. I went to go see what it was and saw that it was a wallet. I opened the wallet to examine its contents and saw that there was $120 in cash sitting in the billfold. I looked at the only piece of ID in the wallet, his driver's license, saw that he was a cute boy from Georgia born in 1980. I thought about it, whether to do it or not, and then because there seemed to be too many reasons to do it, I did. I pocketed the $120 that the next person who stumbled on the wallet also would have taken (so I tell myself), and I bought myself a beer with it at Phoenix. I drank so much last night, talked to so many nice people that I have known, and talked to so many nice people that I met last night.

I also tried to buy coke last night with this money, believing that it was a windfall and should be spent like one, forget all those bills that need to be paid. In the bathroom at Phoneix with Joe, we discovered that it most defintely was not coke since it burned our noses and did not numb our tongues, but instead crystal meth. Throughout the night, I had been talking to this beautiful boy, Scott, who resembled Jimmy Fallon and was wearing a silly poncho shirt. I danced with him and his friends throughout the night, danced until the Cock closed and they kicked everyone to the street, walked toward the subway with his friends, and got his number from him before parting. It is always awkard to try to get someone's number from them while their friends are there also. However, beer and crystal meth will get you over this shyness, and so hopefully I will see this boy again.

I came home, ate beef jerky and ice cream from Kellog's, found myself lying in bed totally wired at 4:30 in the morning, and tried reading a book before realizing how boring that was, and so I masturbated myself to sleep, coming on my chest finally, finally tired, and did not even want to wipe the semen off, did not want to reach for a towel. It seemed like so much effort, that it might destroy my tiredness were I too reach for the towel and then I would be wired again. I risked it, wiped myself off, and perhaps passed out before I even finished doing so.

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