so i've been a little despondant lately. when this happens i fall down on my domestic duties, i.e. keeping the little box i live in clean.
so there was this fly, this gigantic goddamn fruit fly buzzing around my box for like 3 days or so. i was wondering when he was going to starve or crawl under the door or do whatever it is flies do when the disapear. i was sort of thinking i'd have to name it something cute and ironic if i came home today from work and it was still buzzing around.
so, back to my domestic stuff. i had a bottle of Guinness sitting out, almost all gone, next to my bed because i'm so cool i drink in bed at night whilst reading
. anyway, i get home from work and look around for the fly. cool, no fly. this makes me happy because i don't want to adopt the damn thing.
i proceed to clean up my apartment, the latest crawling chaos in my head having gone back under the deep waters of my sub-conscious to await the call of despair some other time, and i pick up the Guinness bottle, bring it to the kitchen and pour out the dark beer left in the bottom. what comes out with the beer? this giant goddamn fruit fly. he's dead, and soaked from head to toe(s) in Guinness.
man, what a way to go. that's how i want to buy it, drowning in Guinness. seems much more plausible and not quite as creepy as dying during the middle of a massive orgasm while inside some unfortunate girl.
so, that's my story for today, and i'm sticking to it. stale beer, dead flies and even deader old men dying atop nubile young girls.
i'm also just back from yoga class and basking in this loose, relaxed glow. i don't feel so much like breaking stuff today.
-pb
music: fight club soundtrack
book: endless nights, neil gaiman
so there was this fly, this gigantic goddamn fruit fly buzzing around my box for like 3 days or so. i was wondering when he was going to starve or crawl under the door or do whatever it is flies do when the disapear. i was sort of thinking i'd have to name it something cute and ironic if i came home today from work and it was still buzzing around.
so, back to my domestic stuff. i had a bottle of Guinness sitting out, almost all gone, next to my bed because i'm so cool i drink in bed at night whilst reading

i proceed to clean up my apartment, the latest crawling chaos in my head having gone back under the deep waters of my sub-conscious to await the call of despair some other time, and i pick up the Guinness bottle, bring it to the kitchen and pour out the dark beer left in the bottom. what comes out with the beer? this giant goddamn fruit fly. he's dead, and soaked from head to toe(s) in Guinness.
man, what a way to go. that's how i want to buy it, drowning in Guinness. seems much more plausible and not quite as creepy as dying during the middle of a massive orgasm while inside some unfortunate girl.
so, that's my story for today, and i'm sticking to it. stale beer, dead flies and even deader old men dying atop nubile young girls.
i'm also just back from yoga class and basking in this loose, relaxed glow. i don't feel so much like breaking stuff today.
-pb

music: fight club soundtrack
book: endless nights, neil gaiman
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I named a roach living in my bf's house SAM once. You can borrow that name if you'd like. Ack. The little bugger died.
You should do yoga more. Maybe we'd see the