quasi_sean

he is masturbating.

i'm trying to tell a story here.

but i swear to you, he's beating off not ten feet from the foot of my bed. i can hear him, and i'm trying to sleep.

just close your ears and think of Phil Collins.

when i want to be sexy, i think of punk rock. maybe sometimes Luther Vandross.

i don't care. i'm beneath my blanket writing these stories down.

i'm irrelevant. perhaps baseball cards would be a good hobby to pick up.

you say the most ridiculous things.

i can't help it. i'm trying to keep my mind off the guy who is usually a gentleman but is now masturbating, and i can hear him.

i'm thinking of the Pixies. that makes me feel sexy.

we are at war. people are poor and eating car tires for protein, and all you can talk about are the fucking Pixies?

maybe we should talk about the guy who is jerking off near you. (maniacal laughter in darkness)

YOU ASSHOLE!

ha ha, i win again.

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someone seriously needs to adopt me. i'm going crazy in this tiny tex-ass hell of an apartment.

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update, shmupdate--half-assed and proud.

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written on toilet wall:
your mom has hairy nipples...and i kinda like it.

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cigarettes.