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.

Yo I Am Apparently Angry About Something

Hey ya’ll. I been busy you know I don’t got the kind of time these days because I went down to the old homestead, them southern states. I went down there for my dad’s birthday. And because I didn’t go down there for thanksgiving. And I didn’t sleep really on the nights that I went there and then came back. My dad took me to the train station in his work truck and he goes to work at 2:30 in the morning and I didn’t go to sleep until like 1:30 so I am trying to recover from that shit.

Yeah and he’s not supposed to have anyone in the truck so I had to crouch down in the feet compartment for half the time. I visited my friend in DC and he said man I never thought when I was thirty I would be awkward internet dating and hearing my friend talk about cowering in the feet compartment of his dad’s truck.

Yeah I visited him in DC since I got there at like six AM and he works at a coffee shop. My bus wasn’t until 9. I got on that bitch and went to sleep, but it was not good sleep of course.

And so I been trying to catch up ever since and been falling over myself sleep drunk. I can’t even do that shit anymore, skip sleep and all of that dumb shit. I been missing days writing, but I’m just going with it. And to be honest, fuck I’m happier that way. Just fuck writing let me drag my ass to work every day and slam down a shit ton of caffeine and fucking go man. Fuck it. Sling some hash and smile and suck a dick or two and get out late at night and drift in the rain like a god damned rally car. Fuck it, just going to be back here in the morning. Think I’ll leave my coat.

But yeah I mean one good thing I’m doing is advancing in my war against Les Miserables. I started reading it in August and it has been a fucking slog, let me tell you. I mean, there are lines, whole pages, whole chapters where the insight is intense and the language is awe inspiring.

But half of that shit is him translating a map of Paris into words and I’m like damn Vic let’s get back to that part with the whorechild and the convict. At least bring little Gavroche back, shit.

Yeah but I’m about seventy percent through that shit so my new goal is finish that shit before the end of the year. Remember my old goal? Yeah fuck that goal, shit. I’ll be lucky to finish the original goal.

You know how people are like, hey man, why don’t you give yourself permission to stop in the middle of books, you know? You’ve only got one life, man, why read something that doesn’t interest you? Because someone told you to read it? That’s lame, bro. Go ahead and give that shit up, and go find something that interests you more, because the world is full of options so why would you choose the boring one?

Hey well guess what fuck that shit, dude, you know why? Because fuck man, the world is a fucking ghetto that’s why. You know what man, fuck you. With your bullshit about that, give yourself permission shit. You know, I didn’t come in this bitch looking for permission, withholding permission, a detriment to my own happiness.

Mother fucker I don’t know…just where these bitches got off the bus and started giving other people permission to do shit. God damn it, the same sacks of shit that will take permission from these fucks are the ones that should’ve been given permission to jump from the top of Angel Falls and hum an old Albert Collins lick to themselves all the way down.

But yeah man, hey, fuck it. What do I know? If people giving you permission to be yourself, or to watch bad movies, or read bad books, or not educate yourself, or masturbate all day, or whatever the fuck it is that you can’t do yourself without feeling guilty about it, if people allowing you to do that makes you feel better, well then you’re fucking lying. You’re a piece of shit like everybody the fuck else, and you have permission to suck a dick.

Hey, look man, I don’t know, Victor Hugo probably likes you. And after all, you are made of star stuff. So…you’re pretty critical to the process around here. All I’m trying to tell you man is that just because some whore hound gives you permission to suck your own dick in Times Square, well that doesn’t mean that you are A #1 Awesome mother fucker because…you aren’t. Deal with it like a fucking human being, and read Les Miserables once in a while. You FUCK.

Right? Yeah. Well anyway. Man. Shit, I’m going to jerk off now and go to sleep to The Vampire Diaries.