But for room service...
The storm of Katrina was a weird reference point for us to
unify sexually. Flood, deluge, escapism, evacuation. Trapped. Starving. Lonely.
Protection. Elevation. Wetness. Evaporation. Ft. Worth. 20 pillows. Refuge.
Elation. Freedom.
6 comments:
While I have always HIGHLY respected and thoroughly enjoyed your writing - your subject matter grosses me out.
Awesome writing.
Nappy subject matter.
I'll still read.
PK, did you read the book by that guy who basically writes about his sexual exploits with dozens of women? It's very raunchy, extremely explicit. Your writings of similar matter are more poetic, cryptic, and (searching for another "tic" word, but coming up empty).
Those days are far behind me. Dozens? Let's talk hundreds. Tequila nights at Jenkensons,
Why gross/nappy? Don't we all do things under the sheets?
If by nappy you mean pee, no, no, no. I was merely linking the deluge of a national disaster circa 2005 with something that happened in a Ft. Worth hotel room. And one of the things involved a spilled Diet Coke. The other is unmentionable.
No, I mean your ex girlfriend is a nasty scab (don't hate me for that). You know exactly how I feel about her, as far as i'm concerned - She fails to impress. Maybe you're content with passion minus heart but I am not... Your ex lacks the latter.
You long for the high she gave you - not her. You settled for someone that doesn't give you the same rush and now you're antsy. Stop living a lie and start looking for your next great love.
Ta da!
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