Dudes Love Dicks

I was talking to a fellow bartender the other day, a woman, who said she isn’t interested in male comedians because four out of five of them base their jokes on penises.

Then I looked at this story I just wrote and there’s a dream where the guy sees flies on his penis. And I’m always talking about sucking my own dick.

I guess I’m obsessed with my penis. I don’t mind, I’m just mad I didn’t notice until now.

Then yesterday I read this interview with Mary Karr, a memoirist who I need to check out. In it there was this bit:

MK: You can ask me about my relationship with David Wallace all you like; I’m not going to talk about his penis.

NYT: That’s one of the least interesting things about any man, really.

MK: If only they knew that.

Ha! Shit I had no idea. Well I guess I’ll stop bringing up my penis all the time.

And I guess I’ll stop watching porn all the time based on this bit from Mary Karr in the same interview:

I’ve also never Googled myself. It wouldn’t occur to me to do so. It’s the same reason I don’t watch pornography. It’s not that I occupy some moral high ground. I just think: Down that road lies madness.

I never thought about it, though probably obvious to enlightened persons, but porn is probably damaging to the psyche. I was just so happy to watch porn after throwing off the mantle of Christian guilt.

I guess I’ll think cut that shit out!

But I ain’t gonna stop drinkin’, no matter what Mary Karr says about it.

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Now That I Watch House I Take More Tylenol

Yeah this one time my friend was talking about Hemingway’s suicide and I said, “He was crushed by the weight of his own genius.” And this guy was the kind of guy who loves to be blown away and he said, “Holy shit! Did you hear what he just said? Crushed by the weight of his own genius! Damn!” Well I felt like a god damn wordsmith, even though I knew I got that shit straight out of Family Guy. I wonder sometimes if the old boy has figured it out. I picture him watching the episode and he sees that and it’s like that scene from The Usual Suspects when the cop is sipping his coffee and looking at his board and sees Skogee, Illinois and Kevin Spacey is in a flashback talking about a barbershop quartet and he drops his coffee and realizes I was a regular bullshit artist.

Hey so that move I was talking about and trying to plan it? That shit went just about as bad as it possibly could. The things I planned fell through so hard and I switched the plan around all at the end and it took fifteen hours to get it done and cost twice as much as it should have and I should have just planned that shit a lot better. If I had made only one better choice it would have saved six hours. If I had made two better choices I would have been done at noon. Well, I guess planning is all about unforeseen shit or whatever I was talking about, unknowable parameters I can’t remember what all but the funny thing is that I didn’t even get the knowable parameters right.

I’ve had two days that I had a few hours alone and I reverted exactly to the same state I always have. Watched like seven hours of porn and ate whatever was lying around and then did the dishes and tried to feel like I had accomplished something, or at least would some day. I can’t leave myself alone for too many days because sooner than I know I start slipping.

Free Morning

What does it mean when you have a free morning? Well for me it means that I don’t go to work until night time. Around two PM or so. I think I don’t write before then because I feel like I should do something productive, and that doesn’t feel productive, and so then I usually give up on doing something productive and don’t write either…I usually clean something and then watch porn jerk off and watch a movie. So in the end I didn’t do anything productive anyway. Nothing to distinguish this day from the myriad days before it. Usually these kinds of days I only feel good when I’m eating. I don’t feel good then either.

“The universal demand for happiness and the widespread unhappiness in our society (and they are but two sides of the same coin) are among the most persuasive signs that we have begun to live in a labor society which lacks enough laboring to keep it contented. For only the animal labors, and neither the craftsman nor the man of action, has ever demanded to be ‘happy’ or thought that mortal man could be happy.”

Hannah Arendt said that. She was apparently a German philosopher or politician or both. I don’t know, shit I just saw the quote somewhere and it made sense to me at the time.

DH Lawrence said, “Work is the best, and a certain numbness, a merciful numbness.” I think that’s quoted right. Some other French guy said something about work being the only way to distract yourself from the fact that you are going to die, or you are dying, or something like that.

Yeah shit I feel that shit like a motherfucker. God damn. If I’m not at work I’m wondering what the fuck I am doing. And I don’t sit around wanting to go to work either. I feel like Milo in The Phantom Tollbooth. When I’m at school I want to be at home and when I’m at home I want to be at school.

Hoo shit. I think I’ll change this theme. I think it’s a wedding theme right now.

The funny thing about life is that last week I slept until twelve every day so to be up right now well shit I’m already at it. Fuck it. I think I just need some chemicals, and nothing crazy either, just a lot of caffeine or a lot of alcohol and I’m all good, wait for death in a peaceable way.

Damn but it’s cold up in this mother fucker and yesterday well…it’s not so much cold but my fingers are cold and I don’t know how to cure that and it’s the most annoying thing.

But I was thinking we are so removed from inconvenience in our modern world. Cold outside? Fuck it, come inside. We all got houses. Hungry? Fuck it, eat. Cut yourself shaving? Son of a bitch. If you were shivering in the cold trying to hunt a wallaby and that shit came after you in a horde of em like they were going to wash over you like a flood when the levee broke well you wouldn’t be shaving anyway.

Fuck it.