nevaar

i fucked a striper last night. when i finished i said "youre welcome, you slamhole cunt." i dont know why. it felt right. she cried. "guys only see me as a sexual object" she said. i agreed and told her to leave because i was goin out and i didnt trust her in my room. it was cold in the house so i put on my clothes and turned off the light in my pirahna's tank. they like the dark. i like the dark.

i drove back to my friends house. they found some blow so they were all still up. they asked what happened to the stripper. i just said she died. they didnt ask anything else. probably because they were high. i didnt care i knew i could still fit more whiskey in my saturated body. i did. each sip burned with great intensity and reminded me of how awful people must feel after they come into contact with me. i dont feel guilty. my shoes carry me where i want and i make it a point to not hide the truth from people. im still cold even in this house. whiskey hurts more and more. i decide that perhaps im dieing. the thought had occured to me earlier when we were at the strip club. middle age perverts throwing a dollars worth of validation towards girls who'll either kill themselves or slide into oblivion in some suburb.

i woke up today and went to lunch with my friend. its a hoagie shop. the sandwichs are good and always remind me of being in ocean city, nj in the summer. i was happy that summer. im so cold even now and my friend who makes the sandwichs asked me if i enjoyed 'goin skiing' last night. i said yeah sure. i guess he was talkin about the coke. whatever. i came home to find my best friend/exgirlfriend at my house. she looked great under overcast skies. i told her we should go in becuase im cold. i turned on the light in my fish tank and laid down on the bed with her. i thawed.

i guess for some, this weekend can mean something. i dont even know what st. valentine actually did anyway. whatever. i dont care. rock and roll.