Hot Coffee

He made me hot.

Oh, God. The heat flowed through my veins. I couldn't help but huff; my breath became ragged and loud as he... Pressed all the right buttons and turned all the right knobs.

I screamed.

I screamed at my climax, and I knew everyone around could hear.

I screamed as I squirted.

I screamed.

The excitement soon ended. The customer had his espresso; the barista turned me off.

Until next time.

Absorbed

“No joke! I'm obsessed.”

“Ha! I believe it – if you're not texting, you're tweeting.”

“Yeah, I guess I'm pretty bad – one sec.”

She checked her phone.

Fuck Hope

--or--

Why the Greeks were right and hope is the worst thing ever.

Of all the emotions I am subject to, it is hope which vexes me the most. Unfortunately for both my peace of mind and my ability to go to sleep at night, I can not control my hope as I can other emotions.

Hope sucks.

On Passion

I am a fairly dispassionate person. While I don't know if I would recommend this state of being, it does help when confronted with emergencies and dilemmas.

It does not help, however, when interacting with others.

It seems that other people expect you to be aghast when they tell you that some celebrity or distant relative has died. While I certainly understand the pain a person feels, it seems that expecting me to feel the same pain is unproductive, at best.

Listenings, 4-13

I do enjoy listening to people. Here's an hour of my life:

G's seventy. Loves baseball. Knows more about it than anyone else in here, except maybe MK (according to him). He's not a huge fan of the Phillies though, which was surprising. He likely comes in every Saturday and gets the same sandwich: a cheesesteak with horseradish on the side. He's pretty happy it's a nice day out, if only because the next bar on his route won't be so smokey (they'll have the doors open). He's friends with everyone there and bought D a drink. He said that he'd have to try the hot turkey sandwich I was eating, but I suspect he'll never get around to it. I'm not sure if he was legitimately curious or was 'repping' the bar when he asked whether or not the potatoes were "real" or not (they were).

Cyclin'

Speedin' Zippin' Zoomin'.
Pushin' pedals, two wheels movin'.
Flyin' by, bein' green, feelin' fly, gettin' lean.
Cyclin'

Sex

I don't care about sex.
I don't care about those carnal pleasures.
All I want is someone to hug when I come home.
Someone to kiss.
Someone to cook for.
Someone to love.
Hopefully they love me too.
Sex would definitely be a bonus though...

Oranges

The oranges bounced aimlessly, scattering to the corners of the ill-lit room in which Oliver now found himself on the floor. He grimaced as he disentangled himself from the splintered remains of the now empty crate he had been carrying just moments before.

“Another ‘minor setback,’” Oliver growled to no one in particular.

Mantras

Possible Mantras:

• An adult is one who has control of their appetites.
• That which is outside the self is outside control.
• Having control of one’s self is to be one’s own person; control else-wise is an illusion.
• Keep that which you cannot control external from your self. Know that what is controlled may be changed.
• Control the self, accept the world.

Rediscovery?

I totally forgot I had this blog. I've cleaned a few things up, and will try to keep it updated for the time being.