The great thing about Anna was that she would let me fuck her in the ass anytime we were having sex.
I started today's "sesh" talking about the reason why people start relationships when they're already in other relationships and that being that we're "insecure" and blahblahblah, but all anyone wants to hear about is anal sex, so I'm going to talk about that instead of my second-hand therapist speak, I just had to get that in there so you know that I know that I know that you know that I know the reason behind all of this shit... at least in second-hand therapist speak, which is basically the language of any educated person in the 21st Century. (I will get back to ass-fucking very shortly I promise)
And I think it's great that most people are starting to talk like this. I think it should be taught in fucking kindergarten! In case you are wondering what the basic tenets of it are if you've never been to therapy, all it is is just saying, "I think..." or, "I feel..." or, "I believe..." whenever you express an opinion, which, you will learn in therapy that everything in your head is an opinion, that we as humans rarely operate on facts, and so to not come off as a complete prick every time you open your mouth you start each sentence with those above phrases as necessary caveats... which everyone will think you are a prick for doing that, but... So! Instead of saying, "You are a fucking asshole," it's much better to say, "I believe that I think that I feel that you are a fucking asshole." This lets the asshole you are arguing with know that you think you are better than them because you felt to use these linguistic caveats to call them out on their assholetry. It's also good to keep your composure when you say these things as most people are by now fuming at the fact that you are 1) Calm, and 2) That you have highlighted their fucking assholeness by you yourself saying that their assholishness might just be something that you are "feeling" and not in fact a quantifiable reality.
But other than just making you look better when you get in fights, it does make you keep a lot of opinions to yourself because you get so sick of having to qualify every little fucking thing before you talk about it, and no one likes someone who is too opinionated... unless you're one of my readers and you need an opinionated asshole like me in your life to help guide you through all of the other assholes you are going to come in contact with everyday, in which case I am more than happy to be your chosen leader and thank you for your nomination. No really, your praise and unwavering admiration and any monetary donations you want to send (there should be a PayPal button somewhere on this page) are more than enough to express your gratitude... that and I'll need you to send me unedited footage of you walking over broken glass while you're naked along with signing over any assets you may own valued over $100,000 and BANG, you're ready to join my cult fanclub!
And, it also lets other people know that if you do know to speak like this most of the time, that any time you don't use these qualifying modifiers to your speech that you must be really pissed off and have deduced through factual analysis that the person you are calling an asshole without saying, "I believe you're an asshole," must really, truly be an asshole, or else you would have used your quali-modificating-puss lingo to say otherwise.
Now on to very real assholes! Anna was an eighth grade teacher so to be able to fuck someone's eighth grade teacher in the ass whenever I felt like it was like righting a million evils that were perpetrated on all of us by scumbag teachers. Every time I knew she'd be blood-farting my cum out of her ass (oh, if you're one of my underage readers you shouldn't have read this sentence) it was like I had blown up a DeathStar for each kid who's ever been wrongly sent to the principal's office. That and anal sex is just better than fucking girl's in their pussies. Except that weird jerky-dick thing that happens after you fuck someone in the ass without a condom (oh, also, don't have unprotected anal sex... unless you want to then do whatever the fuck you want), I wonder what it is about pounding someone's intestines that makes your dick feel like it sat in one of those old-lady hairdryers overnight... whatever! A small price to pay for what is now the holy grail of male/female intercourse—jeez, who knows what the Hell girls are gonna have to do in the next few decades to properly demean themselves enough to show that they love us? Oh well. Since I'm obviously never getting laid again I guess that problem can be passed on to a whole new generation of once gorgeous writer/alcoholics (tautology?).
And yes, all of this was happening while I was still carrying on a full (albeit long-distance) relationship with Brooke... whom I loved more than I've ever loved anyone in the entire world... honestly. I know it sounds like the most bullshit that could ever be bullshitted, but... I cheated on her because I loved her so, so much. I'm not saying it has to make sense, in fact I'm saying it because it doesn't make sense. Although, it really really does. This is what love is. Real love. If you have anything other than this kind of love then you just have a friend that you fuck. Especially if you "care" about them. That's friendship not love. Real love makes you do shit like dumb shit to make it go away 'cause real love will kill you quicker than any dope. Because real love is obsession. If the person you're with can walk out the door without you giving them a second thought for the rest of the day, then you're not in love, you're just stuck with someone who helps you with the bills. Real love means nobody has paid any bills because you don't have enough mental/emotional energy to even look at something that doesn't have anything to do with the person you're in love with. Maybe only addicts are capable of real love because we're the only kind of people who can neglect everything else in our lives for the one thing that gets us fucked up.
When I was with Brooke I needed reminders for everything in my life that didn't have to do with her. With this last girlfriend I couldn't wait to have something else to do because that meant I didn't have to be doing something with her. "Oh, you got us tickets for a play? Darnit. I've got to work on the electric bill all night... shucks..." shit like that. And besides, when you're really, really in love you'll also only be fucking or fighting, no in between. Or doing both at the same time while having the best sex of your life, and you'll always be in a state of sexual frustration if you're out in public because you can't be fucking (not that this will deter you that often), or you'll be having to clean up from sex, which you'll be having so much of that your entire living compartment will just be like a crime scene from a shotgun murder, except covered in cum and pussy juice (is there a better term than pussy juice yet? I'd look it up but this is one of those questions that if you ask Google the back of your computer starts to smoke so I'd rather just ask you guys) instead of blood.
And this is admittedly a young person's evaluation of love. I think I heard it from Lars Von Trier, he said something like, "When you're young, Love = Lust + Jealousy" (I love mathematical equations using life shit, fucking brilliant!), but yeah, I'm only 33, so my entire love history is this equation... and I'm fine with that. God, we were a fucking mess but we had fun. And it wasn't because we went on trips together or saw a lot of great art or whatever the fuck other people want to do and call it a relationship, it's because we didn't have to do fucking anything except be together for it to be spectacular... or disastrous, or spectacularly disastrous, but it was all great! You know, except for the part where we were both almost dead because of our love... but that's also great. I mean, don't you wish you've experienced love like that?
I remember one of my friends telling me about some author he loved and used the phrase, "Florid writing," and I just thought, Blecch! I never like shit like that because no matter how much someone describes something to me I can't see it. I hate when an author goes on for pages about what a fucking room looks like because our brains don't work that way. We color things in ourselves, that's what's good and bad with the human brain. That's why I don't do too much of that for you guys, because I'm not a fucking police sketch-artist. If you want to know what any of these people look like I can just give you a link to a picture, why would I put you through annoying descriptions of them that aren't going to change the way you see these people anyway? Other than the obvious shit, like, "White girl. Brunette. Blue eyes. Very tall. Very skinny." There. Done. I just described Brooke for you and no matter what else I say you won't change the image that you just got in your head. And I didn't have to "floridate" my writing at all to tell you that. Besides just the annoyance of all of it, I really think that the only journalism left to do in the world is to explore what people are thinking. We all know people act like assholes all the time, but let's know the process of the asshole as it works in its natural habitat (Dallas and New York apparently).
And then someone I gave my last book to accused me of writing "memoir," which, God forbid! I mean "memoir" has just become my generation's pissing contest. Who had the saddest life, or the craziest life, or did the most drugs, or the least drugs, or had the worst parents—fuck that shit. I'm not trying to do that. I know other people have had crazier lives and I'm not trying to compete in their little game, I don't fucking care. But what I do care about is thought, and yes, it might not seem like there's any thought behind any of this, but that actually is what I'm thinking about when I'm writing this. That's what I like reading the most. I read War & Peace and my favorite parts were the beginnings of each chapter when Tolstoy was just going on about how historians suck, the stuff before he got to any of the actual story, I liked hearing what he thought about everything that he was writing better than the writing part of the whole damn thing.
And so we all have had crazy and sad lives, so what can I say about that that'd be interesting? Or wouldn't make everyone else all indignant like, "Well my parents were meaner than your parents!" But what hasn't been written before is what's in my head. That's the only thing worth reporting on anymore. For any of us. It's the processes behind all the action that are still the mystery. The News doesn't count as journalism anymore because it reports itself. With Twitter and YouTube newspeople might as well be American autoworkers now.
And I've always figured that artists were just scientists who were smart enough to know the results without having to do the experiments. And that's what I'm fuckin' doing. I'm telling you what now is. Because most of the time it takes people 50 years to be able to do that, and by then "now" is something completely different and only another crazy person sitting alone in their room will know what now is then.