To The Roommate of the Girl in Room Number 238

a kind request..

kinda..

Once you've passed the point of no return, there's no reason to hold back..

I don't know if you'll get this or if you're even going to read this or anything at all but nevertheless, I'll continue. Though I've never met you, you've somehow formed this hatred towards me. We may have talked on the phone for a few minutes, but that's been the extent of our communication...so I'm really at a dead-end as to why you hate me so much..maybe 'hate' is too strong of a word, maybe you use other words, but from my end that's definitely how it appears. I don't know what I've done to you personally to cause these problems, and I've wanted nothing more than to try and resolve them. I always asked Tink to let me talk to you, but she said you would never have it. So now I'm coming to you personally, in a way I guess.

Maybe you have some grand reason, maybe I'm just unaware of the crimes I've committed, but as of now, and always, I'm in the dark. I'm upset that you hate me so, but I'm also upset that you try to control your friend's life. Why you can't respect your friend's non-harmful decisions. Why do you see it fit to be dramatic and cause problems when there are none to between her and I. And don't sit there and act like none of what I am saying is true, Tink always had to leave the room or hang up the phone when she was talking to me because you didn't like it. What kind of friend does that?

Yes, a friend should be there for another friend..should encourage them to do right things..help them in their times of need..should be able to voice their opinion on matters, but also know when to back away. This is the part you failed. You could've hated me all you wanted, and I would have tried to work on that, but you interfered with Tink and I's relationship. Making threats and ultimatums is not cool. I've never seen or heard of anyone so bent out of shape about someone dating someone else, especially someone as irreproachable as myself.

I made Tink happy. I was good to her. I never did anything to harm, impair, compromise...yet you still have reservations. Whether you liked me or not, whether you thought I was horrible or not, that Tink shouldn't be with me or not...you should have said your peace, then, that's it. Let her find out on her own if she is supposed to be with me or not..because it's obvious that she does want to, but can't because of people like you dictating her life. She doesn't want to cause problems with people in her life, and neither do I.

I just have never seen anything like this before. A group of people so hell bent on destroying somebody else's happiness. You can make the claim that being with me caused her loads of stress, but that would bring me right back to you..for, without the ability to just live her life and be happy with me..with someone always interjecting, disrupting, it created that stress.

Enough, I've rambled enough. I wanted to contact you, to talk to you about things and I ended up letting my emotions get the best of me. I came out swinging and I'm sorry. Tink holds you and your opinion in high regards, and so that must mean something. I'm sure you're a great friend and I don't know what I did to cause us to get on the wrong foot..I've always wanted to remedy that. Whether you choose to believe it or not, but I love Tink…and I care about Tink greatly. I care about her and everything that makes her her. I would never change who she is, make her change who she is, negatively influence her, compromise her beliefs...I would have treated her like a princess, because that who she was to me.

Sorry for disturbing you with my message, I appreciate your time. I'd love to actually talk with you, but I don't see that happening. Regardless, enjoy your spring break.

Jangus

"...this should go over well..."

Everyday Life...

I'm the busiest...
most bored person ever..

and if you understand that, awesome.

I don't do anything..no really, I don't do anything...I go to work in the morn and that's about it..yet somehow, I don't have time for anything...I don't get it. Even when I am at home, watching episodes of shows I've already seen a million and one times, I still somehow do not have the time to even blog..

I mean, I have a list of things I should be doing...but, I can never slot the time for those things...what I hate is, it's not like I can leave work and go run the errands I need to do out in town..no, I have to come home and change over first, then go back out..but really once I'm home, I want to take a break from things and kinda unwind.

And as for blogging...I spend all day at work staring at a computer screen, so the last thing I want to do is...well, just that when I get home.. - - though a TV is very similar, it's just further away - -

I've had my friends comment, even recently, that there's always something going on in my life..I've always got some story to tell..some crazy thing..my life is a sitcom...whatever. And I think, sure things happen...but I am the one who is aware of all the down time..or all the random filler that takes two seconds to tell, yet painstaking hours doing...example being i could tell you I haven't heard from my girlfriend in 24 hours, give little details about it all, and take five minutes telling you....mind you, I'm the one who had to sit there for 24 hours waiting on a call..or however long..it's just an example..but still..

The time spent making the story never comes close to how long it takes to tell..maybe that's why we (i) recant them so much..maybe we try to get as much out of them as we put into them. People tend to think that "I'm not over (insert something here)" because I'll tell stories about that whatever...but to those who actually know me, know that I tell stories about everyone and everything..a lot. I tell the stories because I have nothing to hide, and because it's usually something worth telling..

That's what I do, I tell stories..people like listening to my stories and I like telling them..I don't know if i like telling them because people like them...or if people like them because I have so much fun telling them..I've been told it's the stories themselves that are so entertaining..others say it's my own touch I add..in any event, they are an extension of me...maybe to make someone laugh, feel good, or just look at life differently..it's my mark I am leaving behind on the world..

and if that's the case..i need to write more.








"If only I had more time... Wait, a minute, I got all the time I want! I got a time machine! ... All right. Let's see, ten minutes ought to do it."

The Write Structure

emotionally charged..
..positive writing?

that's a chemistry joke...get it? like..electrons=emotions...nevermind...

I do my best to write as often as I can...most of the time I want to write I am in no place to do so, no access to a lappy or the internet, or I just do not have but a few seconds, hardly enough time to sufficiently adapt my thoughts to words...

But every now and then comes a time when the stars align; I have the time, the lappy, the internet isn't being a bitch, and last and most important piece falls into place...not just something to write about, but something I'm charged up and wanting to write about.

Just like an athlete, a fighter, a warrior, or someone in a life or death situation gets that sudden surge of adrenaline flowing through their bloodstream which allows them to accomplish superhuman feats, thus is the same for my writing. I know not every day I write is a masterpiece, because not everyday I'm filled with that raw emotion..a lot of days are just blah...but then, something happens, something to get my blood flowing and my fingers pecking..those are the moments when greatness occurs.

However just like redbull gives you wings, it also sends you crashing back down to mother Earth once that sugar rush is over..what's leftover is a slow, lethargic ass dragger of a corpse. Same goes for the writing. I try my very best to stay on topic, to stay on the 'larger' picture or topic, and I do so for a good three-quarters of my rant...but then, the emotional push I had breaks down the flood gates and the real story starts to come out...the last part of the blog post becomes personal, relating back and revealing the subject that brought about the general topic. I start to lose focus, and the once brilliantly crafted piece of work starts to fall apart, in a very similar fashion of that infamous runner (Chris Legh) collapsing at the finish line...

The harmonious structure that once was is no longer; the final words meshing together just as if there was a four year old attempting to play the piano..I apologize for all this. I try to keep everything on track, but the very emotions that made the whole post possible is the same bit of discourse that destroys it.

I hope you all understand this and can bare with me in the future..







"letting my emotions show through means letting my guard down, then you're vunerable to anything...even shitty writing"

Idea

possible
possibility

something of the sorts...

this goes along with the post I made just the other week about reshaping the structure behind what I post. One idea I had consisted of telling a narrative, a story from my life in an epically long, multi-post fashion. The key is I would post my normal posts and what not, and every third day or so I'd throw in a new chapter in the story..

I think it would take a lot of talent, a lot of memory, a lot of hashing up old emotions that I really do not think I have the time for...but again, I feel as if these stories need to be told, the sooner I get them out, the better and more precise they will be

So if you want the made for TV mini-series of a love affair gone sour hit me up..i think i can still do this...after all, this is what i do










"Now that everyone knows, the statute of limitations on my promise not to tell my story have expired..."

Important to Know, Important to Ask

What..
the fuck...

did i do last night?

Ever have one of those nights where you wake up the next morning in a suit you didn't own, with a grand cash extra in your pockets, next to two naked woman, in a state you weren't in the day prior...enter me.

you are coming to...as you open your eyes and take a look around, your senses dulled from engaging in the various activities the night prior, your initial reaction is confusion, your second emotion is fear. you are scared to be in an unfamiliar place. your brain eventually makes this click,and then your eyes bug out and you jerkidly freeze. as you start surveying your surroundings further more, you become more scared. "where the fuck am i...who the fuck are they..what the fuck am i wearing..how the fuck did this all happen...what the fuck did i do last night"are things you say, first to yourself, then more audibly as you progress. you spring up out of the bed and depending on how coked-up the girls are they don't budge.

once out of the bed you try to gather your senses - fright may have sobered you up, slightly, but you still hold your balance like a baby taking it's first steps. you continue to look around..but you're head pounds as you panickly jerk your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of familiarity. you're in a hotel room, no, a hotel suite..has to be, this 'room' is larger than you're apartment back home...home, that's where i thought i would be at this hour...what i'm i talking about, i don't even know what time it is...

this all doesn't make sense..beams of sunlight bust through the cracks in the blinds on the glass wall behind you. you don't dare glance back in that direction as the early afternoon sun is your eye's, and head's, enemy. this all doesn't make any sense..you try to rationalize everything by thinking 'it's all a dream'...maybe some twisted dream..maybe some weird nightmare...depends on what get you here..but the yellowed walls intensifying every bit of light cause you enough pain to make you realize, it ain't a dream sister.

why do most hotels use this god awful yellow color..yellow is such a bile color - Dostoevsky said it best in Crime and Punishment, so i'll just let him take care of that..the two chairs in opposite corners of the room and long sofa creating a divide in the living area are of a softer cream color. they look comfortable to sit in, but again, not to look at right now..i bet those would look good in the living room at the apartment..you find solace in the dark mahogany-esque woodwork on the trim and dressers throughout the large open space, something easy on your thin eyes. that's when you spot your phone on one of the nightstands on the other side of the california king bed.

you begin to take a quick route around the bed to grab your phone, but in your haste, limited periphery, and off equilibrium, you stumble over pile of pillows and bundled comforter as you turn the corner...you go down hard, trying your best to save yourself, only causing more noise and more injury. you quickly pick yourself back up but you see the girls rustling from the noise. when you fell you brought down the blankets that were covering the girls, that's when you see they are completely naked - well one girl has lost all blanket while the other has only lost half..but i'm pretty sure it's safe to say she's naked too. the completely uncovered girl rolls over waking up, probably cold. she starts blindly reaching for her blankets, pulling herself up into a sitting position reaching down by her feet for the lost shelter.

she looks at you from behind her curly brunette highlighted bangs that fall over her big brown bloodshot eyes standing at the edge of the bed, frozen in time like a picture. she's not frightened, but you are..she's probably still asleep, or drugged up to really care, she just wants the warmth of something surrounding her. your fear quickly vanishes as human instincts kick in..you no longer meet her in her eyes as you try to savor this moment..catching a glimpse of her young body before she hides it again from you. it may only take a few seconds but this moment is in slow motion as she pulls up on the white patterned sheets..slowly making every delicious bit of her disappear...this is not the magic trick i want to see..

the 600 count Egyptian cotton can't match the softness of her skin, in your head. you watch as she cocoons herself starting from her feet and working her way up her delicate, slender body..the little triangular patch is no longer in sight...the last thing you get to see are her perky breasts..and as she tucks those lucky covers under her arm rolling onto her left side, she also ends your viewing pleasure

you're a boob guy - if a chick is sporting some cleavage, you'll give her a second glance. i blame mother as you were breast fed as a child. no matter what size you just wanna see them..however, there is a point when there isn't enough and a point when there is way too much. the "C" cup is the average in society, granted as many times as i have heard girls tell me they are C's i've wanted to get a second opinion...since almost everyone is a C, the category for C has become to large...you got girls who are plump B's trying to pull off lies with a C, and then you have girls who are just large squeezing into C's making them look even larger..whatever the case maybe, the correct C is correct for me, i'll give you some lenience but a C will get you an A

the other girl has dark brown or black hair, it's hard to tell though it kinda matches the woodwork. she is laying on her stomach so you don't have the show like you did with the other girl..granted you get a brief glimpse of her ass, but like i said before, you're a boob kinda guy. i mean you can spot a nice ass when you see one..you don't want a flat ass..maybe something tight and cute....or a little bit bigger to smack..it just doesn't get you worked up like a pair of breasts do.

your lost in the thoughts of cleavage, but as the curtains close on the show time begins again at it's normal pace and your grabbing your knee as the pain from the fall has now arrived. "i hope i did something with that brunette chick" you think to yourself trying to create a moment out of your peep show. you finally remember what it was you were doing, gathering your belongings, your phone, on the nightstand, right...you make your way around to the other side of the bed, closer now to the darker haired girl. from this angle you can now catch a side glimpse of her face; darker in complexion, slightly more weathered, a few freckles trickle off her pointy nose and slide under her closed eyes. she appears a little older than the naked brunette, but she could just be aged from experience.

you pick up your phone which is flashing from the night stand and flip it open...wow, it's been blown up - from texts to missed calls..you also notice that you yourself made a lot of calls to those very same numbers the night prior...ughhh, what could you have said..eighteen calls in total made, that's eighteen calls to eighteen different numbers...way to go 'drunk dial champ'. afraid to look at the texts or listen to the voicemails you close the phone back up and slide it into your pocket...well the pocket of the clothes you are wearing which still aren't yours..."where's the bathroom in this place?"










"in the morning you know we won't remember a thing..."