There have been days

I’ll download twitter out of my cloud

And sign back in

For one reason

New technology, same strange, embarrassing, perverse curiosity. Saw a tweet about how romantic letters were the original drunk texts. Spoke to me on a spiritual level.

My therapist bumped my appointment for someone else and it pissed me right off and I canceled this week and I want to cancel next week because


I feel uncomfortable around him, and for once it’s not because I want to fuck him. I know, I usually want to fuck like any guy who’s even remotely nice to me, but this one is too old. I like sticking to my age bracket. But, given how EVERY SINGLE FUCKING MAN in my life is worthless fucking loser, maybe I want a father figure, deep down? Doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I know my own feelings.

Did you catch that?

Why would you. Or anyone.

You know what’s an astounding book?

Call Me By Your Name

Fucking phenomenal, might be new favorite (favorite is a tier not a single book)


I know you won’t read this so it’s okay

I’m still really fucking pissed

Why did you contact me? What the sweet living fuck did you think was going to happen, save for a good clobbering for me? Do I SEEM strong and stable? Well, maybe compared to you. But you really would’ve done me a huge fucking favor by not. But now it’s too late for that isn’t it? Do you realize

And then I’m off again and no one cares and no one is listening so fuuuuuuuuck it let’s get drunk

DUDE aka I was right, you know

Therapy. Was. Awesome.

It’s only a $30 copay with no deductible. Even on our worst weeks we can swing that.

Pretty excited.

I was right, you know.

That was what I wanted.

Too bad I fucked around for so long with other shit. And other people. I wanted a dude therapist. Fucking shocking.

Do I tell him about the blog?

I’m sure you’ll come up.

Oh well what you gonna do.

Peace out lovely sluts