A Black Feather, A poison pen...

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from wolf to lapdog and back again

I've pretty much fallen back to much of who i was several yeasrs before i started this diary (back in the days when i was only peripherally aware of even the CONCEPT of the internet, much less actually using it.

I go to work,
I harbor a few quiet attractions,
but mostly, i don't take the chances with my emotions that had been driving me for the last ten years or so.

(2 months from now will be 10 years since i took in my jackass roommates at my old house and, by extension ten years since i met Samantha and all of the weirdness and self-destruction that resulted from her and the small handful of would-be loves who followed after her)

Ten years ago, i made the mistake of thinking that it was a good idea to trade the pursuit of pleasure for its own sake for something "meaningful"

what a fucking joke that turned out to be.

at one point i went close to seven and a half years without sex letting myself get strung along like a doofus by every two-faced neurotic little suburbanite brat who only really bothered with me as a means to make their mother twitch

Since i told the one who (appropriately enough) "rhymes with paxil" to fuck off last year, my worst dry spell --even with my busted-up teeth, fluctuating weight and general odd behavior-- has been three months and all but one of them have been decidedly more outwardly attractive

and ALL of them have been infinitely less dishonest about where they were coming from and what they wanted from me.

3:25 p.m. - 2006-05-18

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a jump to the left - a step to teh right