'There's a man with binoculars on the other roof. Just please don't walk upstairs. I need to eat tonight. Of all the nights...it's been so hot today! Man With Washed Clothes, the rifle's not pointed at you! It's at me! Mr. Clean Clothes...it's so hot, I see ants...in the sky! He's got a chart, he's shown me the chart! Please...don't go up there!'
But after I got inside and put my stuff down, it finally struck me—like a coked-out getaway driver into a crosswalk full of guys dressed like Santa Claus—why Rory had so many girls still “riding his jock,” to quote a phrase he loved to use...
I myself learned to drive stick in Portland on a 1990 Plymouth Laser, aqua green with pink detailing and sparkles, spray-painted gold wheels, no muffler and a semi-malfunctioning fuel injection system. Paid $575 for it in 2006, which, adjusted for inflation today, would probably come out to around $300...
Did you know that, today, if you punch the words ‘would I get pregnant if’ into an internet search engine, the most common response that comes back is: ‘I fucked a dog'? I kid you not...
I met his gaze. And, for a moment, our souls passed from one to the other, and the currency that was exchanged in the process was the stream of urine that ran slowly down his inner thigh...
Honestly, it is baffling sometimes to see the abandon with which so many humans cross roads and jockey street gutters in and around Eugene, Oregon, where I live...
Any relationship is an investment. You put in energy, time, emotion, stress, effort and finances, you may give up parts of your dreams and life plans for it, but, in return, it can come to satisfy you in ways you have pre-determined you want to be satisfied, and also in ways you couldn’t have imagined. … Continue reading The New Age Paradox, Part 4: The Relationship Stock Market, and Further Reflections on My Time with a New Age Girl
Two months before the coronavirus pandemic blew up in the U.S., I got transferred to the graveyard shift at my job. Which meant that, for starters, unlike the coronavirus itself, the curve for my dating life was seriously about to flatten. My casual sex life, however, like the number of idiots watching FOX News who didn’t believe COVID-19 was a real thing, was about to go through the roof...
In case you didn’t catch part 1 of the New Age Paradox, here’s a recap: The New Age Girl, this is what she would say: “I need you to talk about what you’re feeling. But I don’t want the whole story, about what you’re feeling. Don’t talk too much. It’s overwhelming..."
New Age Life Lesson # Whatever: Give the New Age Person everything they need, expect nothing in return, and they will love you unconditionally and your relationship will blossom. While they continue to love everyone else they feel like, too. And give far, far less than what they demand. Well, who the fuck is dumb enough to do that, you may ask? Bottom-feeders. A whole school of them. Which, speaking of, brings me to my men’s group...
And after five minutes of trying to flesh the whole thing out, to demonstrate clearly that I was capable of talking about how I felt—to many, many more of her glazed-eye blinkings—she would accuse me, in the end...of talking too much. And of still being angry. Which, of course, would start to make me angry.
And the second the sliding doors opened I behold over the loudspeaker a girl’s voice: “Cody, can you come to the register? There’s a guy up here WITH A BOMB AND HE’S GOING TO BLOW US UP IF WE DON’T GIVE HIM OUR MONEY!!!!” I turned back to my girlfriend and told her to run. “Get out of here! Get back to the car!” And what did she do? The same thing she did every time I ever suggested something to her. She fucking argued with me...
She had the kind of stupid going on that made me think she got a really bad sunburn the day before. You know how that goes? Your brain just shuts down and all day you’re like, ‘Heywwooommnnggghhh.’ ...
All I know, it was a cellphone that was bright lime green. Bright lime green like a child would own. Like a child clumsy enough—or unable to defend themselves enough—to allow it to be slapped from their hand and to skitter across the street where an accomplice could pick it up and dart into the shadows...