how to die

With a beautiful woman in a luxury high-rise hotel room overlooking a metropolis.

She gets me high. Bathes me. Pleasures me until there’s nothing left to be done.

When we’re finished, when I can’t manage another act, and I’m lying inside her in a fog of post-coital delirium, she cuts my throat with a straight razor.

I want to see my blood spurt across her breasts. Watch it pump black across white sheets in half light.

She slides from bed and moves to the bathroom, leaving me to die alone. The last thing I see is her ass, backlit from the bathroom light as she flicks it on.



Sex Troubles

I am a bona fide expert at fucking up opportunities for sex. (Believe it or not, I have had them over the years.) Whatever I have going on, it must work for women in that initial attraction stage, because since high school I’ve very rarely been turned down when I’ve asked a woman out.

At first I fucked up simply by missing the signals. (“No, I shouldn’t come in for coffee. It keeps me awake.”) My early attempts at romance were rife with such blunders. Finally, I had the misfortune to partner up for ten years of monogamous (so I thought) hell with the first woman psychotic enough to wrestle me to the ground and jump my bones. That’s all another story, however.

After recovering from my blessed release from the torments of my first true love, I got a lot better at reading the signals. At parties and whatnot I would see the opportunities and make my move. If the venue was quiet enough for me to work my mojo (I need to be able to communicate effectively) I generally would be successful at getting to the next set of signals. All there was left do was hang around until things wound down, listen to her talk, not say anything too terribly stupid, and I would get laid sooner or later.

Again and again, I couldn’t do it. The sex was simply not worth tolerating the person providing it, even if only for a few hours.

Now don’t confuse misanthropy for misogyny here. Eighty percent of humans are simply not worth bothering with, male or female. It’s just I don’t want to fuck the males. The lesson I took away from this was that my sex drive does not trump my dislike of most people; there is no reward great enough for tolerating any amount of bad company in my free time.

I simply cannot eat out someone who takes American Idol seriously.

Beautiful Geniuses All

The “hooray for everyone,” loser cheerleading, self-esteem boosters of the interweb have been abusing our language with their, “everyone is beautiful and a genius in their own way” routine. It’s downright Orwellian, and I, for one, think it’s double-plus-ungood.

Beauty may be subjective, but that still doesn’t mean that everyone is beautiful. Some people are ugly. Sad for them. However, many of these people compound their unhappiness by holding out for partners completely out of their league. They shitcan aesthetic standards in self-evaluation, and yet cling to them when judging potential fuck mates.

“Why are the beautiful people I desire so superficial?”

It’s really too bad, because it’s only after you bed a really beautiful person that you realize physical beauty is highly overrated. Beautiful people don’t need to learn how to fuck well. Besides which, sex is tactile and emotional. Gunning after beauty for its own sake is trophy fucking and ego. We don’t need to rewrite the dictionary to make everyone beautiful, we need to stop idolizing the superficial.

Further, if you’re going to say “everyone is beautiful” and mean this on an inner level you would be wrong too. Emotional cripples fixated on beauty standards that fill them with self-loathing tend to be rather unpleasant in a multitude of ways.

Then we get to this whole genius business. If everyone’s a genius, then I guess that means that some are more special than others.

If we keep this up, we’re going to wind up with words even more meaningless than they already are. It all gets melted down into grey, tasteless pablum.

And that would be adjective:(. Adverb adjective:( indeed. *unhappy face emoticons included so you know I mean “adjective” in its negative sense*