"I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with the nonhuman world and somehow survives...Paradox and bedrock."-Edward Abbey

05 January 2012


Watching a young couple at the bar, I could tell they were on a date. She was relaxed, and vaguely open, yet at the same time, tentative. She dug her companion, but she's played these games before, and doesn't want her heart, or any other piece of anatomy for that matter, to be used as an appetizer.

He was slowly inching his way in. False smiles and pretty lies. All the things the girlies like to hear. He's in it to get his dick wet, and if she won't play, than he'll find some other split-tail who will.

Voyeuristic visual dissection and speculation on a scene of softness. A bottle of beer and mood music. Just a few of my favorite things. More fun than going to le cinema.

Perhaps, were I inclined to care, I would tell my monkey watching victims not to be offended at my half-starved ally-cat's gaze from dark corners. It's completely benign. Sure, I might whittle off a piece or two psyche of what I see for my stories; the ones I write out, and the ones I tell myself in my skull, but in some dysfunctional way, am I not making some anonymous simian immortal?


  1. I loved this. Not to mention the alliteration in the third paragraph was wonderful.

  2. "...my half-starved ally-cat's gaze from dark corners."

    Damn. Your word play is so very good.

  3. I will admit, there are some interesting stories to be viewed at the bar. But if you really want the good stuff, you should hide in a stall in the women's restroom and eavesdrop on the crap they say to each other in there.

  4. Terlee; Thank you.

    Nessa Roo; as intriguing as that sounds, me being in a woman's water closet would be awkwatd on many levels.