The Spider’s Web

Spider perches and lets slip a filament in the breeze.
A strand of her web floating free.
In search of an anchor.

Where it lands, a spin of chance.

The spider pulls her line taught and begins construction.
Knowing only that a foundation has been found;
she builds her web.

She waits to learn that which the breeze has given.
Will the web feed her well?
Will it be brushed asunder at first light?
Will it hold firm and yet stay empty?

No way to know.

Still the spider weaves.
And waits to learn her fate.
Having done all she can.

And yet, perhaps, not near enough.
If so the wind decided.

Party Pooper

Back when I was quitting drinking (barely even out of the DTs yet), I encountered a series of enabling women who tried to drag me out to bars. What a fuckery life is! When I was drinking I couldn’t get laid out of a bar if my life depended on it, but now a parade of bar sluts present themselves to me; a chorus line of assholes beckoning me back into the drink.

Interestingly, they almost always used the same line: “Oh, come on! You don’t have to drink to have a good time!”

In one of those all too rare moments in life, I nailed my response to this the first time I heard it, and it has been my go to reply since:

“In a bar I sure as fuck do.”

And I don’t drink, so connect the fuckin dots on why I’m not coming out. I’m glad that you can feel special in your ability to enjoy the bar environment without alcohol, you vibrant, unique flower, you! Lucky you to have a brain chemistry that allows enjoyment of that scene without enhancement. Or, perhaps, all the attention from the drunks continually trying to get into your pants has something to do with it. Either way, whatever you situation might be, I’ll thank you not to tell me about mine. Particularly not in an attempt to use me to play out some complicated pathological drama about addiction’s role in your life.

That these people actually regarded this abuse as some kind of support is the ultimate in douchebaggery.

I’m sorry, but you and your scene are just not very interesting. That you always congregate in alcohol distribution venues too noisy have a conversation in should maybe be a clue. It doesn’t hold up well in, say, a park, does it? So don’t go telling me it isn’t about the booze and the drugs, even if you aren’t partaking yourself.

However, if I’m missing the signals on a play to get me into bed, then let me suggest the unsolicited blowjob as a more direct route. I’m just saying: that kind of overture really cuts through a lot of red tape.

Otherwise, have fun. Maybe give me a call when you’re doing something that doesn’t revolve entirely around something that will kill me.

Quality Television

It’s rather interesting how much of American television is devoted to the themes of sexual assault, violent crime, incest, and the worst kinds of interpersonal backstabbing. And that’s just the reality TV.

The fiction gets even better. It seems you can display the most unbelievably vicious rape and snuff porn, so long as you don’t show specific naughty bits or say the few taboo swear words, and have intrepid investigators catch and punish the “perp” at the end of the episode. Exposure and punishment meted out by police characters whose “character development” is repeatedly thrusting their aggressive opinions and childhood trauma in people’s face like an ass-lubed cock in a porn orgy. Ass to mouth for the psyche.

Yay! Angry Detective Numer 1 is pistol whipping the rapist! I wonder how his IA interview is going to turn out? I’ll just bet he tells that smarmy, liberal lawyer bitch where to stick her due process! Maybe next week we can find out after watching some ethnic minority jerk off on a toddler.

Are we not entertained?

(In case anyone is wondering what brought this on, my wife watches Law and Order: SVU. I used to call it her “rape show,” but she didn’t care much for that take on it, and I’ve learned from bitter experience that such wife baiting is a one way street into a cul-de-sac of misery and despair. Now I just wear headphones and blog about it. The twenty-first century, first world experience in a nutshell, I expect.)