Tuesday, April 10, 2007


Sadly monsieur, I cannot write French. This means failure for this, most doomed of endeavors. But know that you are beautiful, and that you tickle my fancy. That I tickle my fancy, fancying you.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Charles Dickens Apex of Zenith

Master of middling prose. How I learned chicks like a fatty (you write long books). How I pun with your last name. How I yearn for that reality.

A buddy is an equal, beneficial arrangement

I was out last night with my boy Dan M. This nigga so plain, he makes me look like a baller. BALLER. He was kicking sour game to this rotten apple indian girl named Sara. She was beat like eggs over freynch toast. FREYNCH IS BALLER. Dan M. is not.

Dan M.: Do you ever think about taxes? Property, Sales, Death and?

Indiangst Sara: Not really. Sometimes I pay them.

Dan M.:
Everyone pays them! Thats the beauty.

Indiangst Sara: Does your friend pay taxes?

Dan M: Oh gosh. Do you like him more?

Of course she liked me more. She wanted to experience my human vision filling her gape. Like this one girl I fucked in Pittsburgh who told me I had the sweetest smelling, most viscous load she'd ever rubbed into her face. She was jewish, and the thing about jewesses (its okay I'm tribal) is they love my sweet young cock. I used to have penis envy. I was envious of my penis. It gets to pop out, pop in and let loose. Such a sweet, simple existence. I'm reminded of a T.S. Eliot quote. "Stroke with your non-dominant hand." Non-dominant motion has a certain arythmia which enables numerous dick-quiverish delights. Delightfoo.