It is late. I have just returned from Tibetan food and a viewing of The Wrestler with Mara. Originally, it was going to be dinner and then up to Nashua to visit friends I've gone too long without seeing. Then it was going to be Nashua after the movie. Ended up I needed to talk with Mara for a bit after the movie about things left unresolved at dinner. Sacrificed Nashua, but I intend to get my pure heart up there sometime soon.
The Wrestler was such a good movie, I want to watch it again right now. Mickey Rourke hit just the right beat as the broken down, put-to-pasture wrestler. A veritable tour de force. I got to hear Accept's Balls To The Wall in a packed movie theater. I resisted the urge to stand up and head bang like I used to do at school dances in Junior High, but I did head nod, which is head banging for the refined or self conscious.
Tomorrow, ah tomorrow. It's to Spira's for brunch and then moving furniture in the U Haul she rented. I will miss the Celtics game, which kind of stinks. Since I lost cable in my room, I haven't watched many games. And what about the Super Bowl? Will I miss that? Fuck the Super Bowl. My interest in it and the sport of football wanes each and every year. I view this as a good thing, a leap in consciousness.
Going to see if I can finish Blood Meridian before sleepy time. What? You're thinking I need to attend to something else, something carnal and better left unspoken? You dirty, wretched hog! Why can't a fella carry on in the confines of his bedroom without going to town on his peter? I'll have you know that I plan only to read and then, before I get under the covers, kneel by my bed and wish all sorts of wonderful things upon my friends and family. When I wake up in the morning, that is when I'll release the hounds on my dick, and when you can scold me for giving in to my baser instincts.
Off to readin' and prayin', bitches.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment