I can feel you inside of me

okay is ANYONE going to the folk fest this year? it seems like nobody is…why?

16 hours ago · Comment · Like

last year, someone told me that if i came to the folk fest, they would kill me. but i went to the folk fest anyway because i had bought weekend tickets months before. but then he sent me txts the entire time i was there telling me to watch my back and how i would regret that i came (i was with people or around security guards the entire time, which is why i stayed at all), but it freaked me out enough that i didn’t go back for the sunday, even though i had bought a ticket.

i think the experience kind of ruined the idea of the folk fest for me. also, there is a good chance he’ll be there again this year, and i try my absolute best to avoid any situation where there is any possibility of even running into him again! in fact, i’m flying out of town this year for the weekend, just to put as much distance between myself and the folk fest as possible

Does anyone know a good place to rock out tonight?

Erotic Stories…

The majority of my early childhood fixations; classifying dinosaurs, Norse mythology, abacuses and multiplication tables, travelled in from the darkness only to be spirited away again as abruptly, leaving only the faintest trace. I remember an old “LIFE” natural almanac which amply documented through photographs and short, terse analysis, the dark habits of insects below the earth’s surface. I remember little about this book except for the strange feeling of having dirt all over one’s palms after reading it and one image near its middle which was very dear to me.

If memory serves it presented a rather haughty looking queen ant rubbing her hands greedily together before swelling, translucent pupae. In the rose-colored light given off by the package one could discern her hundreds of powder yellow children rummaging about impatiently. I cannot nor do I desire to explain why, but I found the image powerfully erotic. I would sit with an affectedly pensive air in the back of my parents’ brown Westvalia van and slowly turn the pages of the otherwise tedious book, being careful not to reveal my true intention in reading it. The spiders would idly pass by, then, a dim amusement at the exploits of the dung beetle, then the climactic image and a resultant sensation of almost suffocating with fascination and guilt. Then, feeling unceasingly watched, I would reluctantly traverse the melancholy incline down towards the index, close the book, and begin anew.

Kabuki Syndrome

I am in a comedy of manners, wearing a kabuki mask. My mechanical gestures upset the languid tea-pot and the strange tilting of my head makes all gossip elliptical…

Hold me closer…

Crossing the new frontier…

It’s all for you…

The lawyer said [Jason Laberge] originally entered the flamingo pen to flush them out of a night cage and into a pond in the enclosure. While doing that, Laberge broke one of the bird’s legs and his friends began their chant.