Motto : Jimmy quit, Jody got married...
I shoulda known we'd never get far.
But when I look back now...
That summer seems to last forever...
And if I had the choice...
Yeah! I'd always wanna be there!
Those were the best days of my life.
Nobody quit, nobody's getting married, we're not fuckwits who peaked in highschool over here. I've lived a long fucking time, at least by contemporary standards, me been living longtime, to put it in contemporary pigdins, yet the best days of my life come and revisit me with almost petulant regularity. "What, you thought you were finally rid of us ? Ha! Take this :"
But when I look back...
I mean, that's a rearview mirror, right ? Definitionally, I'm looking back if I look into it, that's what it is, that's what it's for. Right ? Well...
I'm looking through the rearview mirror from the backseat of my cari. Because I sit in the backseat, I'm a conservative sort of fellow who doesn't drive his own cars and doesn't sit on the chick seat if the chick's driving, either. I'm not fucking Robert or anything, am I now.
No, none of that. Instead, I'm the conservative sort of fellow who leisurely removes a sock or a cufflinkii now and again, comfortably ensconced in the black leather of my black Mercedes, bottle of
fine world's finest rum at my side, while the girls... while the girls take off their clothes, completely, and put on their bathing suits, outside. Outside, in the wide open, under the sky, by the side of the road.
Like total fucking whores.
And... other things.
Ever went for a swim all plugged up, by the way ? No ? Aww. Well... try it sometime, it's a lot of fun. Especially in the ocean, who, exactly like a crow, has the mania of shiny things. It'll definitely try to steal it from you, and then it'll be up to your visceral, taut, internal muscular ring to hold on tight. It'll be fun, like only death ever is.
Are you, by the way, slowly and by degrees developing this nagging suspicion, vaguely unsubstantiable as it is faintly subtle, that I'm really talking about something else all the god damned time ?
Because so am I!
By the way, I hear there's a squareantine going, keeping all the squares at bay.
Pretty cool ideaiii, honestly.
To quote a chick who's not been heard from in many a year by now, a chick who back in those days was too frightened to actually live her life, preferring instead to mortify herself within her mother's living tomb,
amanta aia pe care tu ( generic vorbind) o plantezi intr-un apartament, o hranesti si o imbraci si o fericesti cu vizitele când ti se nazare tie, aia ce face toata ziua, sta si te asteapta?
si e prietenoasa ?
How's the Chaource filtering the hundred kilometers across the border to Basel or whatever, these days ?
Is it... is it friendly ?
Hai ca merge si de-un... duetiv, lol.
Sunt multi in jurul tau care te fac sa te crezi tare
Anii de liceu au venit, n-a trecut mult timp si m-am îndrăgostit
Tine minte ca o spun doar sa te sape in continuare
Emoții, tristeți, vise, bucurii, cu tine iubire le împart zi de zi
Ai produs niste bani, ai gasit drumul in viata,
Mesaje, telefoane, secrete, întâlniri când te văd, mă-nroşesc, mă rătăcesc sub priviri
Le-ai spus ca ai si tite cand suntem fata-n fata ?
Cu o floare în mână şi cu un sărut m-aştepți şi-mi spui ce bine arăt
Partea buna... partea buna... partea buna e ca...
Above, I'm making stovetop chocolate icecream, or rather fudgesicles. Nikki loves chocolate, see, as well as icecream. It's her favourite thing in the world, either one or the other of the two depending (besides serving me, of course). And I am her Master, meaning that when I set out to make by my own hand either chocolate or icecream, I make the best she's ever had. Mastery, you see... mastery is a state of being. Me.
Below, Hannah is scrubbing the floorsv. Naked. Doesn't the dolly look pretty doing it, too ?
Above : peak blanketed in mists. For some reason this reminds me of a conversation we've had (maybe because we had it on the balcony, more or less as I was taking the picture) wherein I concluded I've not substantially changed since the age of about seven or so. I've gotten a lot better at doing the things I wanted to do back then, true, but that'd also be it -- a modification of reach rather than substance. By and large, the substance's pretty much exactly the same. This worries me somewhat, in regards to my old age, because how am I to revert to childhood ? The classical infantilisation of senescence looms a frightening prospect, what exactly am I going to do as a senile 90 year old ? Grab young cunts by the very cunt in question, and in public, sans facon aucune adica fara fasoane ?! You mean... just like yesterday ?!
It is a problem.
This is what's left of the town, the only town (after a fashion) this small, happy-go-lucky country ever had.
Complex parking rules & arrangements, essentially proposing Sunday as a day off. Well.. yesterday was just such a Sunday, and... honestly the whole thing is taking such a cargo-cult flavour. I mean, parking spots ? Why the fuck, what are those even ? By this point I've been walking just like a cow, through the middle of Avenida 1, gesturing disinterestedly to the occasional car behind to "go around, go around, I'm slow" for hours. What parking fucking spots, just stop wherever, whenever. Moo!
This park used to be full of punks, junkies and young love. Nowadays...
Se cuidan mucho.
My life story (and perhaps the reason I've seen scant point to changing all that much since the age of about seven) is something like this : as a young boy growing up, I one day discovered in the normal course of boys discovering things that in fact an evil Koschei living some distance east was holding everyone in the shitter, preventing free movement and the harmonious development of potentials, and so on. So then I started playing with swords and other things of the ever so serious play of children -- have you seen this ? How seriously the kids that'll ever amount to anything always play ? Yet anyway, one merry day the Koschei in question came the fuck over, and cut his own throat on my sword. Just like that, for no conceivable reason, it just fucking did it, and there it lay, the body at my feet and the erstwhile castle ready for rape and plunder. So... well, I mean, what could I do ? Let the misfortunate towering evil die as if in vain ? I raped and plundered, I had to, if your reviled stepmother kills herself darning you a pair of socks you ain't gonna wear those socks ?
But anyways, nice and good, evil's defeated, of rape and plunder we're well sated, the end of history, I'm ready to fucking retire aged twenty-four. Except, wonder of wonderments, it turns out a dragon, that's right, a damn-right motherfuckin' dragon!!! had been studying Koschei all along, and also had in its grip a much larger stretch of land than the bony deplorable of yesteryear. The horizons receded only to rediscover the same structure. And, hysterically, just as I decided the killer bow I was fashioning for the explicit purpose ain't anything like a bow, lacking the flexibility that'd meaningfully allow stringsvi, the god damned fucking dragon came by to hang itself with my shoelaces. It wasn't even my good pair of shoes! What the fuck!
Now I gotta rape and plunder again ?!
Honestly, I feel taken in. This whole "world" thing, as you call it, the phenomenological totum... it is rather like a scam, isn't it ? It's a total set-up, I keep finding myself in this ridiculous situation, what the hell is going on here!
I'm being set-up for joy in complete disregard of anything, it's a shocking display.———
- "Riding in my car... I will undress you... Riding in my car... I will fuck your ass, and while doing it stretch you painfully just because it looks so outlandish, asshole extended a good inch from its normal placement under the tension of the penis and its desperate grip on it, and I'm trying to take a picture, which totally justifies your momentary 'discomfort' at my
handscock, even though it won't come out, as it in fact didn't. Riding in my car..." [↩]
- Yes, I wear cufflinked tailored shirts to the beach. I got my own fucking valet and everything. One day I took a gold-capped walking cane from Vienna's last remaining shop selling such, manned by this grubby old Jew who talked his merchandise so highly I nigh-on believed him, also. [↩]
- Get it ? It's a square, by the bay ? Yes ? [↩]
- Voi nu stiti, ca erati prea tineri, da' oarecum ironic is doua pizde ce cinta-n cor partea de figuri&gargauni. [↩]
- Well, technically in this shot she's scrubbing the wall next to where the kitchen garbage bin stands, because I like to throw things into it and I am not particularly good at making the shot. She'll be scrubbing the floors later, while I take Nicole out for a walk downtown.
If a slave is scrubbing the floors naked and there isn't a Master there to see it, does the... Oh, by the way : do you piss sitting ? Cool. So do I, at least at home. It's much more comfortable and, unlike you, I've exactly nothing to prove by not doing it. [↩]
- How's that for a pun! [↩]