Got me a yoga ball. It’s replacing the pc chair. Deez hip flex0rz are gonna feel better and better every day.

Yesterday’s do was great.  WHY OH WHY DON’T MORE PEOPLE HOST ROM PARTIES?  If you’ve got a pc and some ps2/xbox controllers, you’re set!  Plus, killer instinct alllll day on a ps2 controller = my sis’d be jelly.

Fuckin Orchid, Man 🙂

Had some thoughts, but it is what it ought.

Here’s hoping it’s sunny everywhere else, too 🙂

She can get what she deserves too!

Great weekend, round two 😉

^elab

Was waking up this morning being inane with coffee on my facebook page, and noticed a post left by someone whom I learned apparently unfriended moi (I KNOW RAHT! :-O)

For a second I was COMPLETE CLUELESS as to possibly why.  Clicked on his page and had a small “hmmmm” before I saw OTHER things and who this person who’s unfriended me chose to remain connected to, then wondered if, just maybe I just connected a buncha dots.

Like I’ve wondered how come certain questions went unanswered. And it was like one of those movie moments where a bunch of non-answers kind of lead up to an answer – and, yep, maybe I was over thinking it or, just mayyyyyybe someone couldn’t let themselves be as open as they said they’d be as a way of handling possible shaming?

Shaaaaaaaaame

(And also, because I’m an asshole sometimes.

But you probably hafta contribute to make it happen.)

Ah well.

What I’ve been acting on lately is, respecting how people actually are, being brave enough to actually look at them, and smart enough to actually manage what you want actively and the most directly seems to be three key ingredients towards building awesome relationships. Seems to be working great too.

One thing is, I’m not perfect at those three things myself either, and even the best of us have to remember to do these things well when things get hot.  Plus I see it almost every day at work – sometimes people get feels that make em all GNNNNARR when they think they’re picking up on something. That’s where you wanna get conscientious in the right way.

If you give a shit.

Anyway, I’m not gonna get down about it my sushpishion. Seriously.  Plus I love some new ideas and practices (I FEEL LIKE ITS A LOT OF CONSCIENTIOUSNESS THO AND I WUNDER IF IT’LL BECOME HABIT AFTER ENOUGH PRACTICE) new blessings, and feel smart enough to not shit on them. Therefore, I’ve come a good way since I was 24: time to kick up summ0re of a great weekend.

Not normally amazed by buttsecks, I just love the word play and had to use it asap.

Got a couple rejections for disjuncture after 6 weeks.

Don’t even mind! I should edit it into an “Abridged” (see, better marketable) version.  Convoluted sentences will also sway today’s reader. Shaving off 40k words suddenly doesn’t seem so hard (tedious, but hard) and that’ll make it infinitely more marketable.

It’s a beautiful Saturday. Watching the last samurai before linking up. Walked over the bridge last night with Asher’s trusted romanian friend till aftergroove. He’s a really cool guy, and I shut up and listened to his stories about world travelling and going through Europe. He shared that Europeans have a common joke, “What speaks only one language?” and I knew the answer was An American before he said it. That’s probably why I’m not super enthusiastic about going to other countries that don’t speak english primarily, while expecting people to speak English. Although I kind of still wanna.  There’s a lot to be said for doing something risky without dying.

I am a shitty night photo taker.

Thinking about bds&m lately.  Combination of lots of things – but of course the latest kink.com documentary on netflix doesn’t hurt. Is we coming into a generation of left handed fappers where so many people have sex – physical fuck-sex . . . taught to them – in a way that it gets pidgeon-holed into this “OH I’M NORMALLY SO PENT UP AND HORNEH” bum-chica-bow-wow physical hump as their expected and practiced sexual interlude.  Cause that’s also what makes the porn parody, parody.

Cause the only problem with that setting the entire bar, is how sex as the act of copulation’s way vaguer than that if you get super into it – it can be for making babies,  making love, showing affection, being weird, or getting off.  The last one is interesting cause that’s really, going off, and it’s kind of a . . .strange, human exercise if you take control of it. People are like snowflakes in that their going off may not be alike, sure, but it’s like unicorns fucking when two are truly copulatory complimentaries.

(This’s why I wouldn’t try to take away the concept of fucking from lesbians.  Let ’em have it, cause to get where some lesbians have do in their relationships, maybe lots of them have learned to fuck better than most straight Americans.)

And what I mean about the unicorn fucking, is taking control of where you apply your intention and consent results in more magic than just an orgasm. BDSM gets extra interesting because it’s consensual at heart. (That’s a significant fucking difference between bdsm and say, abuse or rape.  People have the opposite of enjoyment for that.) Yet the idea of doing dangerous shit safely – with consent at the heart or periphery, is a lot more intimate than “Ohai hump moan moan grin fade away” – which is the normal fucksesh depicted in pr0n that I know of. People do that with strangers they meet at parties all the time, and never know each other’s real buttons cause they’re too busy being awkward about master baiting inside each other. How much more satisfying is that than a real wank, really? Wanker.

I think people who put fucking into a box of glitzy “ohai hump hump moan moan fade away” might get bored and sexually dissatisfied, cause that’s like, eating bread all the time? It’s not pushing the triggers of your chemical cues, the stuff that makes you human and full of excite . . .and by not investing yourself in exploring those cues the difference becomes in the AMOUNT of bread that you eat . . . and I even wonder if that’s why missionary fuckcouples pour themselves into other things instead of proudly acknowledging hours of sweet sweat into each other on the weekly.

Maybe you’re doing it right when you’re pushing the limits of what you’re giving youself permission to do and realize strange urges that’re between the food and sleep and thirst and intercourse drives.

And I don’t mean to get into marquis de sade bullshit, but I’m seeing how in civilized sub and dom shit, the sub really does get to set the true boundary, and is arguably in true control. (If you get off on that fucked up sorta power play.) That’s cause real rough shit is consensual more than abusive.  And this shit is probably why 50 shades of gray sells.  (I’m obviously obsessed with making that make sense, cause it makes no other sense any other way.)

^But rather than pontificate that the sub is in control, I still think the whole practice is a reciprocal, mutual power play (I mean hello, ain’t it stupid to talk about power here besides the draw and attraction it has to the involved parties? That’s really all it is . . .) cause both parties are introducing consent. Both parties can instigate or kill that attraction, and it’s a shared strange power between those two people, and really doesn’t have to concern anyone else.  Unless that’s what you’re into.

Dunno, I like Kink as a business.  I think it’s actually a place that celebrates that sub-space is a runner’s high of fucking. Or challenges that if you haven’t clenched or bitten down or beaten right the thing in the way you want to, how much have you lived, really? And there’s all sorts of extremes and in betweens to those things. There’s a whole list of shit that you don’t even know about, cause I don’t.

Which’s why I’m not saying chains and whips are necessary. I just really like Simon’s Quest being an option in our world.

(YAP THATS AN NES JOKE, people)

Anyway, my most womanizing buddy likes to date a million billion women a week. Thats a slight exaggeration, but also no lie, and I’m gonna rag on him a lil for it. This practice tells me that he knows how to manage relationships with women to get them into bed, but that he’s not in touch with a freakier side. Or that, I mean, his freakier side is obsessed with managing all these days, and getting into the hook up point, and donning a rubber, and never getting an STI.  Really, that’s it! Serial dating is actually about the serial dating for serial daters.  Surreal date that shit. Suppose that both of you could get pangs the next day.  Fuck serial dating, maybe it’s more interesting when two people find each other who’ll do all sorts of strange shit together. Or know the perfect boundaries of their permission and never violate that. Yep. Thinking about what that means right now makes my heart go pitter patter.

(Imagine the object of your affection doing exactly the worst things you’d consent to them doing.  Tell me that doesn’t make you go pitter patter.  Yep.  You’re feeling alive. You’re welcome.)

I think for men it doesn’t work for treating vaginas the same way you’d treat a cocaine-addiction model in that if we look at enough, they should gets old. It’s a fact of psychology – and if you disagree, that’s sweet, but maybe you haven’t looked at enough.  After you get your bestial libido out, it’s really the psychological libido – that weird recess in your brain where if you’re a fucked up animal with strange impulses that’ll release chemical relief, that’ll be most stimulating.  And in a way, I think that’s way more intimate, and way more interesting than reducing fucking to hole humping. Actually, for smart men, should feel it’s insulting and regressive if we’re just supposed to be some sorta man-dog who’ll love to obsess on a hole.  Instead, talking about life’s holes is groovier, man, and what you wanna do with them, and what you’re gonna do now because it fascinates you, and how you’re not gonna question it and maybe they’d love it if you didn’t either.

(With a safe word, if you’re cray.)

So don’t forget not to sleep on it, but also Push It. If that’s what you’re into. I think maybe the part of us that give rise to ego and quirk gives rise to those sides.

(Shit, maybe lots of my favorite songs have been about kinky sex and the like, and I haven’t even realize it.)

Cause I’m confident that people wanna get headfucked, at the heart of it all.  That the ones who aren’t just bored with life will need some sort of real allure and beacon to mindmeld when physically connecting with another. That they want someone else to gain their consent for it, and alleviate this pent up backlog of unrealized fantasy. Take them. They’re beautiful.

That sort of stuff.

And all this is not to diss the people who live lives are oriented away from the kinky shit.

Totally don’t see a problem with enjoying your dates and chocolate sex, too.

I just think it’s an easy trap to become too obsessed with shrewd needs that’re ultimately Hallmarked out to know what we’re really intrigued by / missing.

I ❤ intense sorts who're serious about not taking themselves too seriously 🙂

Alright, I’ve polluted my outlet with enough words but I wanna do one quick diary:

Today was a real tough day. (Much of it is because I’m a silly person and woke up at 3am, and most of it is because the new tasks at work and the way they’re being taught and managed is making me have to take charge of clarification. I seem to be the only one with the nuts to realize, hey, this is bullshit the way this process has been being processed, and this aid will greatly assist and help the people out who’ve been faking it stress less.  I got that done, but it took lots of tonguework and I was up since 3am.)

Here’s the thought that’s been on my mind for the last few hours: management and respect.

I’m starting to admire a professional I met who, hates where they are. This person doesn’t like the work situation, or her treatment and values herself more.  Despite this, this person has made a managerial decision BEFORE EVERY THING SHE’S EVER SAID and it’s been professional, constructive, and conscientious every time.  That’s amazing to me.  She’s also not playing games about the game being a real thing, that professionals in the environment she’s in has to manage (I agree, some things you simply don’t have the power to change until you are on top of the status quo – which might be a batshit insane crazy mission) but,

by talking to her, by seeing her people skills (cause this person is also disorganized, and faking things, and experts bigger than her can see this) it’s also clear why she’s a better manager than me.  I’ve been starting to say things like that, and that’s not easy, due to this website’s name.  She’s shown me in many short sentences that she simaltaniously respects how people actually are and manages her relationships with them well – even if she doesn’t like or appreciate what she’s respecting.

So I think what I want to lead towards is that people confuse management and respect. Or, that I’m weird in that I see respect in a different way.  It occurs to me that the things I’ve managed extra well had well-earned, reciprocal respect, only.   I had enough talent to direct and manage organizations greater than 300 people, but I think today, I’m a little humbled in that I have to say those achievements weren’t purely a result of my being a skilled manager.  I’m better at destroying people I don’t like than managing them – and so long as I have to interact with others, I’m not sure that’s the best thing ever, either.

Once upon an era one of my greatest buddies Victor insulted me horribly, and more than once.  Only a few times did he ever actually mean to, or not give a shit if he did, but the way I see it, in the end, that’s kind of ok.  Me and Vic have a similar sense of manly in this way.  I accept that’s how he actually saw things, and I respect why (and totes disagree.)  But I can see beyond that not need purely managerial skills to have a dynamic with regards to these imperfections, and here’s what I like: If you take us shopping with you, and you ask us if some jeans you’re trying on provides a fat ass, and we both know it provides a fat ass, we’ll tell you anyway.  Vic and I just have different ways of handling how we present this opinion with respect to the asker. It shocked me to realize there are lots of people out there (mostly girls, you’re welcome) who feel it’s ethical to lie.

Well, this corporate person has made me realize that they actually have a knack for quickly gaining and assessing insight into other people and what makes them tick.  That’s half of what makes her a fantastic manager. Half.  Stay with me.

The other side is, not only does she have diplomacy and courtesy, even towards people who put her in a tough spot, but she can respect what makes them tick enough to know how to insert herself in a constructive way. That to me is management.

I say this because, I feel like I respect who, say, my old man, actually is if I say he’s a curmudgeoney sort who’s not capable of learning and respecting other people’s boundaries due to a lack of practice and insight. That’s actually horribly degrading – I’m taking away from my dad’s aspect of being a decent feller to others.  The problem is, to me he actually is, I have to respect that, because if I don’t, I’ll be extra, extra surprised, and think about it too much when he violates said boundaries. However, I respect (re-spect – look again) what I’ve seen, observed, realized from interactions with him by expecting these chastizing things.  You respect another person who is flakey when you realize they’re probably gonna be flakey.  You respect a person who is too weak when you acknowledge they can’t handle something.

This doesn’t mean that a respectful relationship with whom someone actually is a well managed one.  This also doesn’t mean that a well managed relationship with someone is actually respectful, cause sometimes some people just try on another’s respect as vanity – don’t they?

The thing though, is that respect and management gets a distinction in that respect is an affective value, while management actually is how you manipulate others.  I am actually not a perfect manager, often, because I respect myself and how I see things too much (that’s what I believe anyway.) This results in me becoming incredibly abrasive, and, sometimes saying things that plugs towards another’s diasthesis that hits way too close to home.  More than a few times, I’ve touched into a sensitive area too strongly and just destroyed a person’s ability to bear me.

I’m not sure I should lose that self respect.  Sometimes people are immature twats, or sure make me feel like they’ve been one, and I’m not sure it’s best to give them a chance to stop it while rationalizing that it’s been just a boon. That’ll cost self-respect unless I’m a perfect manager, and, maybe I’m not. It depends.

I can think of two people I interact with regularly who I think may actually be narcasists.  That’s scary, and my shock at the way they’ve used people really kind of hurt and made me a little cynical of everyone.  But that’s not fair, and makes me an asshole to generalize about everyone.  (I get the temptation, but pride myself on realizing it’s a temptation to generalize before I give in.)

What I’m noticing lately is, it IS possible to have a well managed relationship with a narcissist.  It can even be beneficial, if that’s what you want and know what youre in for. (House of Cards?)  The perk is, I dun want that. The positive note is, if I can manage good relationships with a narc, I can manage a good relationship with almost well anyone, anyway.  I just have to be conscientious to not sacrifice more self-respect than I want to. And I have to respect the fact that I’m dealing with a person that doesn’t want to actually respect me, but an aspect of self that reflects kindly on them.

That’s the thing about a tight dynamic that is well managed, vs a tight dynamic that actually has what I see as true respect.   The well-managed dynamic is just a vanity relationship – it really is.  It’s something that’ll be severed as soon as it’s no longer appealing to said vanity.  The truly respectful relationship’ll have seasons, if people truly respect each other and there’s enough benefit to it.  It’s just that the proportion of those seasons can skew amazingly.

Anyway, all that is to say in the end that, I might not have perfectly managed people in my life.  The people I know who are perfect managers, who don’t know how to live with true respect (they have to paint others, they can’t listen to the full range of life’s music, as I see it) a lot of them that I know are succesful in so many inhumane ways – they make 150,000k+ a year, they party, they have appreciation by their peers, they’ll definitely seduce and breed, and probably at a more succesful rate than douchenozzles like me – but they also feel empty at the end of the night, and they fuck up  kids even harder – if you care about that.  Hey, I’m not perfect, but I’m willing to bet that if I respect my imperfections as things to work on, and have the strength to accept what I can’t fix, my life is still gonna kick a lot of ass.  There’s still a shitton of management for me to learn.  But, apparently, there’s also this balance of true respect for others, and myself, because I do see people’s flaws and shortcomings, and that can’t be helped.  That simply can’t be helped.  It’s possible I shouldn’t let that result into badly managed tension as much as I do, cause sometimes that just costs a shitton of respect in every which way.

Anyway, that’s my note from impressive imperfect people I still meet in corporate America.  Also, it’s only 7:30.  I’m gonna go be awesome now.

Emo-fictitiousness written up Monday

________________________________________________________

The party was over.  It had proven that he was a socially acceptable, normal person. That he had people skills, and a social life that wasn’t malignant.

Ed felt inane. Disregardable. Like even the small victories was just stockpiling news towards the one who managed to crawl into his thoughts. Ed had made the stupid sick mistake of falling in love – and more than just letting himself love someone, but Ed somehow slipped and felt in love, perhaps because he was fucked up. And whether or not being in love was symptomatic of being fucked up, or being in love fucked him up seemed irrelevant.  Both seemed the case.

And for whatever reason, they wouldn’t work. Stephani had decided that she had had enough of him, and he felt the distance, despite her efforts. And he voiced the distance, and she hated it, and hated him for being so dumb as to be demanding more than seductive. And then she increased it. And all Ed knew was that his whims and his better sense were now at constant war, and that some of the best insight about his turmoil could probably be related by a recovering drug addict.

Ed had tried to let go, but found his mind occupied obsessively. Words like selfish became slurs, and slung mud lead to dirty hands that were incapable of a good digital finger-fucking. It was unlike anything ever precedented in their dynamic before.

Stephani really cared about Ed too. But she also had to care about herself, and blamed Ed for making her feel horrible. And in a place like Seattle, after just moving, she found no need for any more of her bullshit with him. She didn’t feel good for him, could rationalize why it’s better for him, and she had honestly grown tired of rationalizing that Ed’s shortcomings made him worth explaining to those who would get to know her.

She found there were better things to do with her mind, and, she knew that Ed had fucked up more than once. For this, he betrayed the idea that he would change into what she wanted, and even proved the opposite. For this, and more, she knew anger.

And she fucking hated how Ed would always have something to say at this point, anyway.

(Plus her new love interest hated when she still talked to Ed.)

So they stopped talking.

Selina also really cared about Ed. Had no false hopes that Ed was there to be in love with her (even though he had proven he would love people.) And, especially after she found those black lingerie panties by his bed – lingerie too adorning and fashionable to belong to any of Ed’s relatives – she was always conscious to not bear any expectations that Ed’s sex life belonged exclusively to her. She admired him too much to expect otherwise, really – Ed was powerful, sexy, passionate, and in a place like New York, one would have to be a fool, and have too little of the connectedness of life and influence to not have side-work. As she told him, she simply didn’t want to know.

But she knew. A smart woman can know a man better than he knows himself, and she knew there was someone else, and that Ed was feeling burned (“By a friend” he had said and believed.) Before this she knew only Ed’s softer, opinionated, funnier side, but knew that he could be determined and focused and that lately, something was making him sad and distracted. She knew something bothered him extra about this relationship, and she saw him fight so hard for it. And, all the while, only once had he ever actually spoken out in anger.

Somehow, she admired that. Knew that something was possibly unfair, or hurtful to someone, and that Ed didn’t seem like he wanted to be a crazy person, yet continued to spend a crazy amount of energy and thought into that friendship which hurt. She had seen him get up to type into documents that never went anywhere, right after turning away and feeling like stone to her touch. She’d seen him take 7 minutes to spend a stupid amount of intelligence into a 12 word text. Oh, Ed was foolish, but he was thoughtful and he cared.

Somehow, she admired it. Selina felt that if a man would work that hard to make something work, and if he was a man like Ed, that it was probably not just Ed’s loss. She had told him that.

So when, after the party, after Ed had rolled a cigarette (he had been drinking and smoking a lot more in the last two months, despite having mentioned that he quit tobacco cold-turkey before) and with the way he had slowly gotten up to go back to the rooftop where the festivities (the really good, successful festivities that her home had hosted) Selina felt a wonder, and then a concern.

She decided she’d finish washing the plate she was dealing with, and then go upstairs.

It really was a beautiful place, Ed knew. In a beautiful city, at a beautiful point in life. If success meant friends, money and women, he should be feeling successful. He knew he should be cherishing the great one downstairs, and would, but, it would be co-dependent and destructive to make her his crutch, and Selena needed to wrap up her hosted events. Plus, he really had wanted a cigarette, and was tired of laughing at music videos that he probably wouldn’t remember with Selina’s roommate.

The night before, he had decided it was ok to feel a little sad (although it sure didn’t feel like he really needed his own permission.) It was just more stewing, and his always having something to say. And that was just the whine of his circular thinking, last night – intellectualization. That it would be ok to feel a little sad, but learn from the experience, and move on. Ed was so smart.

He sucked. The cherry in his rollie glowed brighter in the night’s sky, and brighter still when a breeze flew into it. The smoke would crawl down his throat, into his lungs, trigger a coughing urge that, like all the other spewing urges Ed had been feeling for the last month he muscled down, and away. The noxious mixture of gas would diffuse into his blood and into his brain. And somehow, the dizzying feeling didn’t bother Ed nearly as much as it used to. Being disassociated in the way that only dizzying Carbon Monoxide could didn’t seem to disturb him as much, either.

So he stood, looking out. Feeling, a little ok, but also realizing it was his first private moment all day, when he wasn’t making small talk or drinks or proving that he could do just fine in a politely trendy world. And of course, his mind went to Stephani. About how he would love to take a picture of where he was and text it. He felt like she would appreciate the beautiful river that was just unorthodox for an Upper West Side Apartment.  That Stephani would love to know that the night felt good where he was, and that he hoped it felt good there too. He felt like Stephani would be annoyed, and not give a shit about not hearing about it.

This time, he didn’t even have to stay his hand away from his phone. He had taken pictures earlier that day, anyway. The night felt good. He thought about how it should be enjoyable.

From the top floor’s doorway, able to take in the roof’s patio in full, Selina saw he was doing it again. (She had taken him to a convention before where he was walking and looking full of his regular verve and full of cheer, and then look like some cog had turned deeply in his head, and he’d turn away from everyone and just, stare.) She had learned to tell him the second it happened, (“You look morose.”) because she got a kick out of his amazement when she was right, and it seemed to snap him out of it and bring him back.  She liked it when he was around. He was wonderful to her, and while he wasn’t perfect, exceeding of her expectations.

But this wasn’t a game for her. To Selina, it said a whole lot to see how much he could care about something that he knew was illogical, and in a way she loved it, while at the same time hating how suddenly into his head and just sad he’d suddenly become. How was this guy more full of cheer when they first met in the wintertime, and turning into a depressant on a beautiful night like they were about to share?

“Hey are you OK?” she said.

Ed turned around. Was completely surprised she had come up to see him, but he had spent the entire day being cool and figured that a few more minutes wasn’t a problem. She was always a welcome place of warmth, and he didn’t want to share bullshit that she didn’t deserve to be hurt by.  She had already done amazingly well when she counseled him about the grief that could come with a lost friend without ever once saying one bad thing about this friend (he knew because, he’d never let her.)

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Just having a smoke.”

Then Ed gulped. And she looked him in the eye and he knew it wasn’t really any use acting like he wasn’t just caught looking morose another time.

“Were you thinking about the Seattle girl situation again?”

“Sorry yeah, it’s dumb.” He said simply, and was even about to put on one of those smirks but-

“Right, cause you’re totally not supposed to have feelings.”

And perhaps the party’s drinks had loosened up her tongue, it was the first time Selina had ever been sarcastic towards Ed.

And, Ed saw it in her caring face and the way she looked him dead-on in the eye and realized, it had been the opposite of nasty sarcasm, too. At least, it wasn’t meant to sharply make him feel bad and tell him what to do, but Ed understood she was interrupting and calling out his own bullshit: Ed was being fucking selective about his feelings again.

He was hurt. He felt like the little child who’s best friend no longer wanted to speak to him so she could eat lunch with the cool kids. It was stupid, and he was stupid. Crazy stupid. He had feelings that he didn’t want to put words to because the words were crazy stupid too, and sounded even stupider. He was sad, and even if life gave him every indicator that he was a cool kid, it sure seemed to take a lot of energy to act like one.

The image of Selena, staring with that shining, observant study – one that actually looked concerned for how he felt more than what he thought it meant towards her – began to blur. His features began to twist and his eyes started to go.

Fuck.

He really had just wanted a cigarette, he thought. But maybe not. Maybe he actually wanted to go someplace where he could be a little sad, and realized Selina wasn’t there to stop that.

“Oh come here.” She said, and now to Ed, Selina seemed like one of the warmest people on Earth.

The cigarette – his excuse to go upstairs – rolled out of fingertips and onto rooftop. He just felt his face go ugly, and his eyes blink extra as one, two, three, four, five tears – just the beginning of a backlog of further tears started to pour, and Ed ran over, and four arms interlocked against two backs as he buried his face into her neck like the sad fuck-off of a kid he felt like.

She was truly aware of the state of his mind, and perhaps more aware than ever let on. She had put two and two together more than once, and saw that Ed had no desire to give so much of a shit as to get hurt, or hurt anyone, but something happened anyway. She saw Ed as an incredibly proud, incredibly amazing person who could have so many things in life, and would rather be a great man than a content douchewad, and that somehow this situation affected him. She had gone through a similar thing and was losing a friend of her own, and had in fact received really good, caring advice from him on what he understood was a similar situation, and amazed at how much a psychological wound he had been hiding, and where everything he had to say had come from.

The tall, well-spoken, smart, well-meaning man cried like a child on the tall, strong, well-spoken, smart, well-meaning woman’s shoulder.

“Come here.” She said more gently, and leading, together they walked from her rooftop, to her room, and still leading, pulled him onto her bed and his head into her chest.

For once Ed’s mind, a thing normally containing a bundle of urges and words, was quiet as he just listened to himself be sad. The mildest flash of anger about being left holding a bunch of bags died as he realized everything lead up to his being sad, but then being pulled into the warmest, most wonderful breasts that he’d probably ever come across. And more, also pulled by strong arms, towards a wonderfully beating heart.

He suddenly found it much harder to be sad. Five, four, three, two, and then one tear was left and he was not feeling sorry as much as, admiration for Selina’s understanding and discretion. While he had had his ups and downs about Stephani cutting him off, and the way that it finally happened, after the ways that Ed could see and cutfully put things, and because of what their interactions represented now, this was a first.

Something in his mind clicked and a welcome reprieve from sadness came in the form of gratitude. Realization, too.

Those two had something amazing all the while, he always knew that but now, more than ever, he certainly felt like it.

Selina was right about everything she had suspected about Ed, including the fact that he had always really cared about her too. And now, assuming he wasn’t dumb – which he sure didn’t seem to her – he knew that she cared more than her own personal self-concern. She knew Ed wasn’t dumb enough to disregard that.

Plus, she thought he was real cute after wiping those ugly tears away.

(And, it turned out, crying into a perfect pair of bewbs made them appreciable to Ed in a whole new way.)

He sniffled. Squeeze Selina lightly. Gave her a little hug and realized he’d now be happy to do whatever she wanted to do for the rest of the night – short of watching the entire Notebook movie and staying awake for it. (They both found that idea equally as absurd, anyway.)

“Hey um,” the bass in his voice had returned. He sounded cheerful and genuinely smirky again. “Thanks and uh, let’s never talk about this again alright?”

They stayed like that, and Ed accepted that he felt dumb, but also still valued. He would not stop feeling grateful to Selina for accepting his dumbness while staying so great herself. And she felt, great.

“Ok.” She said, and smiled. She kissed his dorky cheek and gave him a hug right back.

After a while they went back to Ed’s house to eat bacon and watch the Powerpuff girls.

Eh,

I hate taking other people’s . . . crap and wanting to look passed it, but they’re being unable to look passed mine. That always hurts the feels man (messes with my gutsense of justice) and I wish people could just be cool. Like, cool people deserve to feel cool. Damaged fucktards just deserve to feel damaged.

I know which one I’m gonna work towards.

Just wish I could expect the same well-intentioned nature behind a given dynamic?

*Gets back to the job i shouldnt be overly involved in.*

I rule.

One thing ill never like about say, justin beiber, is his shit is aggrandizing. Sometimes people feel bad, and sometimes nasty things are a part of life. Its why im not sure i love pop music as a platform, while cats like moby come up with creativity from the entire range of their life and get way less in the short term for it – in fact, they get a lot of shit. Mobys album reviews are scathing! Im still not sure if its best to put all an artists rawness out there, in fact thats where discretion is a real part of distinguisihing the best real artists, but, theres a difference between marketting your name as a branding production thats supposed to make everyone pumped, and honestly expressing reaults from your life. The pump is a commodity. Yet real people have real feels. Theres a lot to be said for ruling your own world, and not needing others enjoyment to validate what is real in your life.

Been a while since I’ve had a Saturday morning like this.  The sun’s totally out and it’s one of those springy mornings where you can hear the birds chirping, being all “CHECKIT OUT, THERE’RE NO STUPID HUMANS BOTHERING US” and it’s nice.

Today’s a rastarant with dranks and prospect follow up with folks kinda day. But I also like that this’s still infusing/in store for tomorrow’s rooftop fiesta

^Basil + Kiwi + Svedka – turns into so many ermazing bitchdranks 🙂

And yesterday felt a lil tough, but I don’t think that has to be the end-all. Kinda feeling booked in a good way

I suck.

But instead of blathering on that I’d like to point out the handling of work stuff, cause it was a much tougher day today.
I can’t seem to get more than 5 hours of sleep in a weekday due to doing shit, and actually now do my team’s entire old-school case-load – ( . . . It’s turned into my current video game.)

Which, isn’t to say, a happy-to-do person won’t get this guy when more stuff is slopped their way, sometimes

(Lookit that fugly smile!)

At least when I plug into good things the enthusiasm is real (So my smile’s better. My hair too. There.)

But that also takes a lot of activity (like, I’d like to see my keystrokes metricked out.) However, one thing that’s real nice is that there’s someone there who’s actually trying to give me time to write instead of dump more too.  Got a half hour of edits in today, really appreciated that, and maybe about to do more. (Apparently I’m identifying shit sentence construction and gratuitous scene construction a lot easier than the first 5 times when I read it and just loved that it was a thing I could read.)

Anyway, the non-fiction / some personality slappy experiences / watching others go through similar (What is, timing?) is boosting the awareness of how I can come off. Thinking and handling shit better is win, and I’m looking to do (and have been) a little extra in my way about, so . . .maybe getting a lil better with folks overall as a result. (Seem to be getting along with everyone and able to do things like edit and party better.)

I also keep taking pics of their construction of skyscrapers in bk and the work area, cause Brooklyn soon will never be even close to the same.

Totally mixed a new basil-kiwi vodka infusion for this weekend’s fiesta on the ninja today, cause it needs 30 hours.  Kinda proud of the how.

I do miss having a sense of humor without stuff to react to! Like when chilling on my ownsome which used to be the case. But maybe it was just the case because I didn’t know had lots to do, then.

And anyway, the night is young, the weekend is nigh, and that’s my dumb blog entry for today.

/DuzShit