Another Stage Of DILFism… And Pussies Get Pussy?

P.S- I have my second ever grey hair. This time on my beard.

Not even kidding, I feel fucking fantastic about it. Just another couple of thousand strands to go.


What the fuck was that. (?)

Ok…so, if you think about sex noises that humans make. Imagine that in cat format. Do cats make sex noises? It was “me-arh” rather than “meow”. I can certainly say that it did not sound like pain. This would be a lot easier to Google, but I’m not comfortable with potentially being labelled as an animal sex freak and that I suck at using Google to find what I want; and the genuine reason of “I was watching it for research” is not legit to the majority because of the people who are actually into bestiality. Fack’s sake. Now I will never know what noises cats make during sex. Just to clarify, I’m not into bestiality. I just wanna know what that noise meant made by the cat. I’m going with sex. But it’d bug me if I was wrong. Cat lovers (not literally) help me out if you know please.

Anyway. Now I’m actually gone. Biz.


I’m off to London tomorrow for a week for general shenanigans because attempting to be noticed in the professional sense is too much effort. I’m gonna get ridiculously blitzed. Blue arrives Saturday. Get blitzed with her too. And also a cousin’s wedding to go to, which is a nice little break in between from all the ravey and overly social based stuff.

I’ll most likely be out of commission for a week because of you know who. I might blog occasionally, with pictures if you’re lucky of artsy stuff me and her planned. We have had a few ideas of stuff, nothing naked based, though she wants some of me naked for her art. Surprisingly, I believe her, but still, no.

Such ideas of which I might post pictures of, is using smoke and black and white imagery, while making various faces to determine the personas of the voices I used to hear. If you don’t know about the voices then…that was ages ago and it’s in the trash pile, but it’s long to go into. If you really wanna know the nitty gritty of that I’ll copy and paste the post to you or something once I am eventually fucked. But I’ll do the short version now. Anyway, in my head, there was one voice I had called Luca. Pretty angry, severely hostile. Typical crazed “kill everyone otherwise I will” voice. So I’d use cig/spliff smoke to blow out and waft around my head while I do like this really fucked up leer towards the camera or something. And another shot would be what I call the sadistic facepalm. You know, it’s effectively a facepalm but you look like a psycho.

I dunno what art is. It feels kinda artsy to me if I pull it off though. Blue feels like it’s a decent idea, and she’s bringing a fat ass camera, so it would be cool to learn photography skills off of her, because I would like to add that to my repertoire.

Yeah, so, I won’t be posting for a bit. For blogs I follow, I’ll read your stuff when I can and catch up with you whenever. Don’t hate if I don’t respond, it’s only because I’m having too much fun :P. It’s only a week anyway, y’all can survive without my borderline acceptable commentary.

Ok fine, it’s not even borderline acceptable. But appreciate that I always speak my mind.

Oh, if I don’t blog anything after like, two weeks. Assume that I died in London. Could be Blue killing me. Could be a car hitting me. Could be a train. Could be dodgy drugs when I thought it was sugar to put in my tea.

If that is the case, I expect y’all to sob and masturbate just the once in my memory. It’d make me feel happy in the afterlife while I most likely burn in Hell because my repentance wasn’t good enough.

Er….I think that’s everything. See y’all soon.

Lvl Up.

Passed my driving test. Apparently I can use a UK licence anywhere in the world and drive. Cept Jamaica, only lasts six months and then you gotta apply. So….who wants to go cruising for bitches? Alternatively we can pretend we’re in real life GTA and go on a massacre.  But, remember, we don’t respawn if we die. There’s no floating green wads of shiny cash if we kill people too. We’ll have real money instead though!

Speaking of bitches, Blue is flying over from tomorrow. Shit just got real. So pumped.

And I had an interview on Tuesday for a copywriter vacancy, 1 of 6 shortlisted. I dunno until next week if I got the job, but if I did, it’s gonna cap off a mighty fine performance in the week considering I was pretty ill.

Would’ve been perf if I wasn’t ill so I could have gone gym. Finally managed to stop complaining about being there… so now I’m complaining about illness fucking my routine. I still hate gym. I’m just moaning that it took all that motivation to get into acceptance mode and BAM! Bedridden.

Anyway. Promising week. Work work work.  Well. Next week. I’ll be too busy trying to serenade Blue with ridiculously wordy perversion. You know the kind of, “that’s pretty grim dude, but deep down, awwwh!”

Now to tick off the job and long term bitch on the life list and then I can properly start working on the fun side of the bucket list.

Unconditional Defence.

So this stemmed from talking with a blog pal of mine just now. Not that the thought process is based on her. The conversation just made me wonder. Stoned vibes. You know how it is. Well. You don’t if you don’t smoke weed, but even then you should know if you read my blog frequently.

Ever wonder about whenever your friends bitch about someone and how they’re dickheads and all that stuff, that your friend might actually be the one who is the dick?

We’re all so naturally defensive of our friends, ya know, “I am friends with this person, so they can’t be the bad one”.

Then again I have plenty of friends who are dicks, but they know they are.

I just wonder if anyone has lied to me. Not that I’d necessarily care so much. I’m happy hating people I don’t know, it’s fun because I’ll never have to see them. I’d like to think I’ve been pretty blunt about if I am in the wrong or right, but people just love to see the good side of me. Whether I’m beating myself up unnecessarily, or I’m just fucking damn good at making people like me for them to constantly disagree, I’ll never know. I just know it’s their default reaction.

I mean, I’ve had friends tell me “I’ve done wrong” for fucked up stuff in the past, but I’ve never had the vilification from them. Just weird that I’ll never properly know who was right or wrong in whatever format. Y’all know I’m fixated with the concepts of good and evil, can’t help it.

But then again, would I want to be shouted at if it happened? Say I do get the telling off and anger, then what? I’ll probably feel hurt. Sigh. Silly brain.

Regardless, it’s all interesting. I wonder what the “limit” is? I mean murder/rape is a pretty sure fire way to lose everyone. Cheating on your partner with their best friend? Hmmm… could go either way. I know people that’s happened to. And some groups have cut those people off, while other groups have had mixed receptions and patches of the whole circle of friends keep in touch with them.

Me? I prefer to say how it is. But I guess I fall into this unbreakable defence of a friend too. I just despise multiple personas that are made for the sole purpose of being conniving. Like, actual two faced shit. If someone’s a dick, I’d rather know from the start. Granted, I’d only hang with them for the good times and I never want to meet anyone that I feel would be hurt by them in case I strike a rapport with them. I’m in no position to do the holier than thou approach. If they wanna hear it, then they’ll definitely hear it. if they don’t, that’s their prerogative, they’ll eventually have to deal with it all themselves and I can only hope they pull through it.

Just the way life is in terms of societal bonds. Strange shit.

Charred Bridge.

So it’s what, about 2 hours as I type this before it’s officially 3 months since I eventually decided to walk away from you. It hasn’t been easy, but I’d be lying if I said it was as ridiculously difficult as the first time. I dunno, it’s just strange. While the emotional difficulty wasn’t at the same psychotic breakdown level like the first time, it was still pretty hard. I couldn’t really talk about missing you much to my friends, because as you already know, pretty much all of them hate you. Then again I wouldn’t be surprised if it was vice versa. Plus, I think they were bored of hearing of you, since it was constant back then; the good, bad and nostalgic. I moped to Blue a few times, but ultimately it’s something I had to keep to myself rather than vent about. Who’s Blue? You know of her, old friend. One I had an intense thingy with and kinda have a more intense weird thingy with again. Me and her have a mutual best friend. Yeeeep, that’s the one.


It’s weird. But if anything, I’d rather deal with this myself than the first time, which people tried in vain to sort out, but that’s whatever.

I’ve been to a couple of parties/raves and had a few ridiculous highs. So naturally I did the whole soppy thing to everyone I loved and how they’re dope and shit on whatsapp. Lo and behold, I find myself looking for your number before I realise what’s up and that I ended things, as well as deleting your number. So obviously, like the sappy dog I am, I stroll up on Facebook thinking that messaging you was a good idea of being ridiculously apologetic and that I’m an ass and you’d eventually understand why. But then the whole profile pic comes up and it’s you and the berf (boyfriend. berf=bf, recent thing I started) looking all wonderfully happy and shit. And lemme tell you, it was a fucking weird ass feeling. Probably due to the MD, but whatever. I dunno, it was this weird kind of like an inner “awwwwh” and a bit of, “Shit. He’s actually kinda hot.”, but surprising for me because it wasn’t said out of jealousy. Now when I noted that, my mind was fucking blown lemme tell ya. And it was at that moment I knew messaging you was dumb. So in my ridiculously buzzin’ state, I managed to back out and put my phone in my pocket, telling myself that no one would benefit from that outpour, if I did do it. There wasn’t any point. Whether you verified that you either missed, hated, or didn’t care about me would serve no purpose. I left because I was finding it harder to not be toxic, in my head, my rationality was gonna dissolve at some point via me losing my head over some mundane shit ‘cuz it was all pent up. In my head, doing this was the right thing if you were gonna be happy in that department. I’d have either attempted to cock block or silently hate you from afar. Didn’t wanna be that guy. So I did what I did. It only adds to the fact that seeing your profile picture (can’t believe I’m stalking people on Facebook) made me happy, if memory serves you both said the “In L” phrase so with my sick Columbo skills it seems to be going strong. Great! I don’t think I could have that same mindset if I was still around you. I did try to keep it under control, but you know my limits are pretty big, so hopefully you understood. Then again, you don’t need to. You’re perfectly entitled to think whatever as this was my deal.

That being said, from the sounds of things so far, I did good. You got your berf and from my memory he’s pretty dedicated so that works for me fine. Fucked up as it may sound, that’s helping me too. Wasn’t intentionally seeking that, but it does. I might not be around anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit. Well, I won’t give a shit about any negative feelings involving you. I’m on my way to eradicating them eventually, whenever that is. But I’m saying you won’t be like, I dunno, forgotten. You’ll be mentioned at some point for whatever reason in terms of big ass life experiences, so, ya know. Whatever. I told myself this wouldn’t be a pretend conversation of anything emotionally wordy and all that shit. Even if we had this conversation you’d get the theme of it all anyway, you were good at that.

But yeah, it’s cool to see you doing your thing. Keep going. I’m glad I could say all that and mean it for once. I’d rather be here and be happy for you than be near you and ending up hating you/each other. That’s it to be honest.

……Sigh. I enjoyed writing that, weird amount of closure talking to an astral projection version of an ex-best friend. Well, technically she’s still my best friend. I’m just probably never speaking to her again. All subjective ennit.

For A Wolf I Met


Oh God. The copious amounts of feels.

Originally posted on aladywrites4u:

I am told this is wolf week somewhere, for some reason. I’ve always had a soft spot for the furry little hounds so here is a little bit of wolfery I wrote in another time and place.

Wandering alone in a forest of solitude
He in his direction, me in my own
Comforted by the damp darkness that holds us
Secure in our well worn paths

We need not open our eyes to find the way
Traveling obliviously down well worn paths of self made solitude
Opposite ways down the same path neither knowing a stranger approaches

Caught in our own world until we blindly run into one another
Startled we stare, taking measure of the other, feeling the fear
The fear nature demands abandons us replaced by empathy of eyes
 photo wolf 2.jpg

Eyes revealing a kindredness of spirit that negates natural fear
Unspoken agreement and we pass only a breath…

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