Slapping Balls

I get another letter in the mail.

This time it's from HUD, Housing and Urban Develop- ment. A mandatory house inspection. They call it an HQS, Housing Quality Standards Annual Inspection. Very strong words that they use here partner. They want you here, and they want access.


"If you fail to provide access to the HWS Inspector, HPD may terminate you Section 8 rent subsidy,. Termination of your Section 8 rent subsidy may increase your monthly rent obligation, and could result in possible eviction by your landlord if you cannot pay your rent in full."


Why do they always have to hold what they are giving you over your head? Of course I know what failure to make this inspection means. I get kicked out into the streets. Any moron with half a brain can figure this one out. But they have to spell it out to you, constantly, and In Bold Print so that you don't miss it. See, and everyone wants to be me because I live the life of Riley. Bullshit. Try living life with THE MAN constantly making threats like these, see if you like that much. Constantly in fear that if you cross the man you'll be out on you ass in the streets, literally.

It's different with a boss. Perfor- mance plays a role, so does personality. You can keep your job if you do a good job and you're a likable character. That is only fair. But me? What more good can I do but show up for this inspection and provide access. Even then, they still hold the sword of Damocles over your head.

I have a Second Morning today and wake up listening to music from my computer. It's after 1:00PM. I'm hungry. I was up earlier, drinking coffee and shit, responding to e-mails, surfing the web. I'm in search of another publisher. I've found one that I'm going to send the novel to after I finish editing it for a THIRD fucking time.

Firstly, and I don't know if I've told you this already, DAW BOOKS a subsidiary of PENQUIN PRESS, is my first choice. I am happy, but they have a list of 'to dos'. First and foremost, they DON'T take electronic submissions. Meaning, that I will have to print out the entire book and change the page formatting just for them and then box it and ship it out to them by mail. All of this is going to cost me BIG dollars. Realize that my ass is constantly broke. It will take me a lot of saving from every corner of my life to make this work. Further, they don't send back your manuscript. They just don't. They incinerate it. So that's money going down the drain. For a rejection or acceptance letter from them you'll have to also enclose a stamped self addressed envelope, and if you want acknolegement of receipt you have to put a postcard in it too.

You may think that I am discouraged over this, but in fact, I'm not. I'm used to this. This is the old way of sending in manuscripts before word processors and the Internet. I have to tell you, that back in the day, that's how I used to send my books out to publishers. I knew then that they took your work pretty seriously. I'm happy for this. I think I've got a good one on the line here. Now I've got to pull up my fucking pants, wipe my nose and get back on the stick. Why?

Secondly, I'm reading the damn Novel for shit's and giggles and I find all of these outrageous errors. What the fuck is wrong with me. This is my fucking story and I can't get shit right? This is outrageous. It makes me worried about my own mental faculties. The first two chapters are rife with errors, and they are not just errors that I'm the only one that would know the difference. NO. It' errors like a character turning from Black to White in a couple of pages. Where there is a three member family in one section and the very next scene the character lives alone. Shit like that...like I said, outrageous shit.

I have to work on this with a finer tooth comb before I let it out to the publishers. I get busy until my head starts to nod. I go down for the Second Morning. When my fat ass gets up I'm hungry. I get up and make a bagel and cheese with hot sauce. I'm already in love with another staple. Shit! I wanted my next staple to be healthier and look what I do. I get another starch overdose. Well, that's the fucking way life goes.

Isn't that the truth? What is healthy for us we stray away from. We don't want the shit that will make our lives longer. We don't want the vegetables and the...and the...what the fuck else can you eat that's good for you. Shit if I know. All I can fucking think of are vegetables. OH, fish and chicken. Shit like that right? Well, we stray away from those and settle with the candies, the starches, the mustard and the salt. And Salt I should be staying away from, and now that I'm borderline Diabetic. Whoopee!! Talk about losing weight, I'm not looking for that diet. I'll probably be an insulin junkie because it will be hard for me to change my diet.

Yeah, what is healthy doesn't seem to interest us. We'll still smoke those cigarettes, fuck without condoms. Oh, and there is nothing like fucking without a condom. You know it's fucking fucking wrong, but you want to do it anyway. That's the thing about when you are balls deep in a woman, you want to FEEL that shit. Tell me I'm lying. You want to bottom out in that motherfucker. That's why I feel sorry for guys with long dicks. Women may love that shit, and I don't see why, but when you're longer than your woman is deep, you have to stop long before you bump into her rear end and have your swinging balls slap her against her 'taint' or the crack of her ass, POW! Nothing feels like that in the world. Sorry girls, I just had to talk about that one, but that shit is true. That's one of the joys of sex for a man, whether he admits it, is aware of it, or cares to feel it, or tell you or not. But that's not unhealthy, having your balls slap against the ass of the one you love. It's NOT wearing a condom.

That sounds funny. I think that should be in a Valentine's day card. 'Wishing to slap you against the ass with my balls.' Ah ha ha ha, or 'Until I slap your ass with my balls!' Now that would make for a holiday card. I wonder if women would get it though, or would they just scratch their heads and frown? I mean, since they don't know what it's like to have a pair of....

...oh, and I don't mean those men who's balls rise up into their bodies when they are having sex either. Those guys, I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about us 'hangers', us that dangle like grapes on a vine. We are the ones that I am talking about, and I include myself as being....well both, if you would like to get personal. I can rise or I can dangle. Depending on how they feel at the moment. I have no mental control of that shit. I just know when I'm slapping my balls or not.

Well other than slapping my balls against a nice piece of ass, I know what's for dinner tonight. Cheese rice and hot sauce with tuna fish. Yum. I'd better get a respirator after this, I think I'm going to need it. Until then, let me tighten and clean up this Novel for publication, and to look for another publisher too. I can't put all of my eggs, or my Novels, in one basket.

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