i flew back to edmonton three days ago and already im knee deep in filth. im keeping a travel log, in which i record my thoughts, stories, and the things that happen to me. lots of booze, pornography, and so forth has crossed my path. tonight i went to a bar with my best friend here, a terrible influence, incidentially, and he picked up two larger women and i picked up this sort of chubby girl and took her home. our sex was vocal, sort of, until i became too soft and she had to, um, use other methods to satisfy me. why am i writing this?
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guilt, maybe, even though my partner likes me doing randoms, instead of getting emotionally involved. or maybe i just...this fucking place, edmonton, the people i hang out with are dirty, trashy, and i feel at home there. i dont get to lose myself in that very often. edmonton, specifically claireview, abotsfield, etc, is like my st urbain, my dublin, my manawaka or my paris. its immortalized in me. sometimes i think that i should censor myself when i drink; sometimes i think that im full of shit. my mom, with whom i am staying, just said hello when this girl, des, came downstairs with me, her hair desheveled. God bless you, mom. you know the power of sex.
anyway, i only add blogs here when i find myself grappling with her perverse, ill never see des again, but i liked that she dug my body. is that so wrong?
peace and love.
ps ive got a poem appearing at thievesjargon.com right now, something appearing in zygoteinmycoffee.com in a few weeks, and something in a horror antho coming up, for a bit of royalties. waiting for a response on an e-journal, which could net me 30 bucks usd. rock on, starving artists.
"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen... there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change."
From his Last Will & Testament, Marquis de Sade