When You Can Think of It Let Me Know

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I don't want to knock the people.

They are much nicer than most of New York. New York has an attitude that you are basically in the way. Everyone is an annoyance to everyone else. But here, in North Carolina, people genuinely like people. It's odd. They actually will say hello to you, or thank you for holding a door for them. Common human civility is not dead down there. What should be knocked though is their bad eating habits.



Shit, I fit here perfectly. Big, fat, poor exercise. In New York, everybody is slim, trim, healthy and athletic. I'm out of place,  a misfit. Whereas here, almost everybody, everybody is fat and out of shape. Amazing. I fit right in. The women gaze at me as if I'm hot, the men are all like happy Santa Clauses. It's like paradise for fat people. And they all eat poorly.



And yet, the food is so damn good. It's killing you. You know it the second that you bite into it. The fried chicken, the pork sausages, the pork chops and ribs. The potato skins and home fries, grits slathered over with a lake of butter...I mean, come on! This shit is delicious. When you bite into what they call 'barbecue' which is something like pulled pork, you want to die. The shit is amazing, and you know that you ARE dying, because your arteries are screaming for help. I know this. I've been making a pig out of myself for the past four days, eating this shit like there was no tomorrow.



Why? Because I'm two things: 1) Homeless, and 2) a bachelor, and a third thing too, 3) I only have a microwave. You can't fry foods in a microwave. I haven't eaten like this in generations. I've forgotten what the fuck fried foods tasted like. So, you know what that means! It's time for me to fill my arteries with paste! I'm doing it too. When I get back to New York, I'll do what needs to be done, get my shit together and get to exercising to lose this weight again. I can do it. I know that I can.



Last night, while sleeping on the couch, I dreamt some wild dream where I had to take an exam- ination and most of it revolved around my dick. I had all kinds of nurses and female doctors playing with my cock and balls while I stood there, fists cocked against my hips, back straight. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a stabbing spasm in my right calf. It dropped me to the floor in my dream and I reached for it. I kicked just as another spasm gripped my left calf. I kicked both legs up and grabbed for them. That's when I came out of the dream, rolling over off the couch in my parents living room and crashing to the floor between the couch and coffee table, banging myself up but good. My calves still spasmed uncontrollably. I was in so much pain that I could only lay there and cry. Soon, by increments, the pain subsided and was gone.



I rose. It was still night out. I went to the kitchen, turned on my computer, got on the Internet. Made coffee for myself. Wrote on my book, and basically watched as the sun rose slowly over the houses of the horizon. Big sky country. The highway right past the house, the few homes littering both sides of the road. A tired, lazy town without much to do save work, watch TV and fuck. Not a bad threesome...although I could replace the work part with writing and the TV part with more fucking.



Welcome to the Sun Tangled Angel Revival folks. My way of saying that there are things that go on in my head that you should know about without my even writing about them. That's just the way they are. Such as my love of writing and blowjobs. Which is going to be the name of a book of mine whenever I start selling them. Especially if it's going to be one about my life and loves. I bet you never heard of that. Further, just plain fucking. That's always good too...and good pasta. Fucking and pasta. Maybe that's the Italian part of my heritage bleeding through. A nice, chunky, curvy woman, naked on a bed of pasta and a box of condoms. Yeah. I think I can do that.



Well, there's no need to sit around and do wistful thinking. OH, well, then again, there is!!! I have nothing else to do today, other than watch the disaster of Japan on CNN over and over again. There is little else. Tonight, I'm taking a shower, and then pack my bags. The bus for New York leaves at 9:20 this evening and I intend to be on it.



Because if I stay here much longer, I'm going into town to look for writing materials and someone to fuck.

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/03/when-you-can-think-of-it-let-me-know.html
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